


Broke But Not Broken

by ReadItandWeepFics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, PTSD, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-04-27 14:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14427906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadItandWeepFics/pseuds/ReadItandWeepFics
Summary: Modern AU with some elements of character background from the MCU. You are a young woman who has just escaped a rather horrific situation. One that has left its scars physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Can a certain soldier, whose trying to forget his own demons help you overcome yours?





	1. All The Kings Horses

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my very first fanfic, so hopefully I will be able to do it justice. This story was one I had OCs in mind, but I’ve been reading waaay too many Bucky fics and the story morphed into one that he fit into. So I thought why not be a little self-indulgent and make it a reader insert one too! Also, there is no Bucky in this part, as I need to build the story up before I brought him in, so please bear with me! He will come in the next part! I’m a sado-masochistic SOB that loves a slow burn! I hope you enjoy!!

The Greyhound bus lurches to a stop, the massive vehicle hissing as the brakes are released. You jolt awake grasping the cracked seat in front of you for balance. Panic laces itself around your heart as your sleep addled brain attempts to orient itself.

Where am I? 

You glance up at the message board and watch as the destination slowly loops across the screen. 

3765: Brooklyn, Smith St.

Okay, so you’d made it to... Brooklyn? Isn’t that the stop you’re supposed to get off at? You run shaky fingers over your mussed braid of hair. The tight denim skirt you are wearing didn’t have pockets so you had resorted to keeping the ticket in your bra.

Trying to discreetly pull it out, you pull the slightly crumpled ticket out and check the city name on it. Yes. Brooklyn.

Clenching the ticket in your hands you get up and stumble towards the front of the bus. You keep your head down low, walk down the steps and onto the dark street outside. You stall, unsure of what to do now. Other people getting off the bus try to move past you, some pausing to glare or give you disgruntled looks. One elderly man nudges you between the shoulder blades. 

“Get a move on, girl!” He grouses 

Startled, you shuffle to the side and out of the way as the remaining passengers exit. There is a chill to the night air. You shiver and hug your arms close to your body. The short sleeved, rather revealing blouse did nothing to protect you from the elements. Neither did the skirt. The ill-fitting, borrowed sneakers you wear are beginning to pinch now that you are standing instead of sitting in the bus chair. You didn’t care. You were finally beginning to feel it.

Freedom.

You breathe in deeply, hold it in for a moment, and release it. The air reeks of motor oil, stale cigarette smoke, and urine. It should bother you as it probably would most people. You watch the passengers as they head off to the depot or parking lot, some meeting family you supposed, others alone. 

You began to follow where most of the people went, walking apprehensively down the sidewalk and passed the depot. The noise of the buses rumbling and faint talking gave way to more urban sounds.

Cars drove by, brakes squealed, a police siren is either coming or going from where you are. You weren’t too sure. Someone was throwing trash out in an alley as you walk by, causing you to jump when something like glass broke once it hit the bottom of the dumpster.

You’re beginning to shiver again, although this time it wasn’t from the cold. You had initially been elated stepping off that bus. However, getting on and off that bus had been your only goal in the wee hours that morning. You had left with two hundred dollars, now a little less than that after purchasing the bus fare. 

You had no idea where to go from here or where to stay. You were safe only in the sense that you were miles away from where you ever wanted to be again. 

There came a faint sound of a woman laughing. You lift your head up and see a small cluster of women, all in various revealing apparel, watching disinterested as cars pull up to the curb. You halt as one of them came up to a sedan and stuck her head in to talk to the driver. They had a short exchange and then she opens the passenger door and gets in. The sedan drove off with its newest occupant. You falter, attempting to decide if you should continue walking ahead towards them as you were doing or to turn and go another direction. 

In your contemplation you didn’t hear the man’s foot falls coming up behind you.

“Hey there, sweetheart. How much to spend the night here with yours truly?” The man sidles up to you and snakes his arm around you middle.

You squeak and try to shove him off. In your attempts to extract yourself the man adjusts you in his arms until your facing him.

“Aw c’mon babe. I ain’t gonna bite ya... much.” He winks and guffaws, the acrid scent of beer and halitosis making you want to gag.

Balding and sporting about a day’s worth of beard growth the man gives you a particularly nasty, yellowed, toothy grin. He’s a good foot and a half taller than you, and although he didn’t look strong, as the spare tire around his middle suggested, he certainly has a vise grip on you. 

You whimper and shake your head, wanting to scream the word ‘no’ but it feels like your throat is closing off. You gasp in short bursts trying again to shove him away.

No, no, no. This can’t happen again. This won’t happen again.

The man began to pull you further down the nearest alleyway. He backs you up to the rough brick wall and begins to paw at your breasts. You screw your eyes shut and try to push him back, placing your hand against his jaw and forcing his head back. He ducks and peppers your neck in kisses. You feel him slide something between your cleavage and hear the unmistakeable sound of a zipper. His hand trails up your thigh, under the skirt. The tightness in your throat finally snaps.

“NO!”

You rear your hand back and swing it out and across his face in a satisfying slap. He stumbles back, releasing you and clutching the side of his face. Your fingers claw the brick behind your back as you gasp out sobs.

The man stares wide-eyed at you, pulling his hand away from his cheek. Blood collects in the corner of his mouth. He reaches back up to swipe at it and looks back at his hand. When his eyes snap up to you all the drunken humor is gone.

“You bitch! What’s the matter with you?! I paid ya, didn’t I?! Now I’m gonna get off-“ he comes at you again. You cry out cowering against the wall as he grasps a fistful of your hair.

You shut your eyes again and wait for the pain to begin... but nothing comes. You hear a loud thwack and the man’s hand loosens its grip in your hair. Strands of your messed up braid fall across your face as you look up to see the man doubled over with a slim, dark woman standing over him, a rather large handbag slung over one of her denim clad shoulders. Her pose exudes confidence and power, as does the crystal studded bustier under a cropped denim jacket. A form-fitting, hot pink, latex mini skirt is wrapped around her hips ending in long, cocoa colored legs.

“I do believe the lady told you no. And when a lady says no, she means it.” She says in a feigned high feminine voice. She turns and walks away when the man rolls to his side and mutters,

“Bitch..”

The woman whirls around and gives a swift kick to his groin with her stiletto heel. His groans double in volume.

“Who you callin’ bitch?!” The woman’s voice drops several octaves into a decidedly masculine voice. 

She adjusts her cropped jacket and slings the handbag back over her shoulder. The woman glances down at you and offers her other hand. You hesitantly accept it with trembling fingers. Your eyes dart from her back to the moaning man on the ground.

“Now honey, if your gonna take a man’s money and then stiff him on the goods you gotta learn how to make a quick getaway.” 

You gape at her, eyes wide and glassy. You shake your head vigorously attempting to force words out, but you could feel the words stick in your throat before they made it out of your mouth. She studies you for a moment. Eyes narrowing, she asks, “You ain’t from around here are you babygirl?”

Again, you can’t manage more than a shake of your head. The woman takes another appraising look.

“Word of advice? Dressing like… that will send the wrong message to folks ‘round here.” You look down at yourself and hunch forward, trying to cover as much of yourself as you can. The wind picks up and you shiver.

“Well then,” the woman says as she struts back down the alley. She turns on her heel and cants her head towards the street. “time to put you in some new digs hun.”

 

•••

Cici, as you learn is the woman’s name, takes you to a local thrift shop to find more suitable attire for the late fall weather. The store clerk looks a tad disgruntled as the two of you stroll in ten minutes to closing time. However, he doesn’t seem too put out as CiCi begins to pile some shirts, pants, and coats into your arms. Guess he can’t pass up a chance to make a buck. Every now and then she pulls out a top, clicks her tongue, then holds it up to you for inspection. Sometimes the shirt goes into the pile, other times back on the rack.

As far as you could tell CiCi was by all accounts physically a man, but for the present time wished to be viewed as a woman. You wonder a bit as to why being near her wasn’t becoming a stressor when the man in the alley and even the store clerk were making you want to crawl into a hole and hide. Perhaps it was because all she seemed to want from you was to have a dress-up doll. 

Another pair of pants make it into the pile. Did she have a hobby of picking up random people and making them shop with her? 

“Alright baby,” CiCi turns back to you as you make it down the small aisle of clothing racks and towards the back of the store. Situated between a men’s hat display and a small section of woman’s scarves sits a makeshift fitting room. Which was simply PVC pipes connected together and black fabric looped around all sides. She parts the fabric and stands by, “go on ahead and try them on. See what you like.” 

You shuffle passed her into the small space. CiCi lets the curtain fall behind you. Inside there’s a full length mirror propped up against the back wall. Next to the mirror stands a small, fold out chair. You discard the pile of clothes onto it, a few errant pieces falling onto the floor. Slowly, you glance towards your reflection.

It had been a while since you’d seen yourself in full. Sure you could look down at your own body and had occasion to see your face in mirrors before, but this was the first time since your life had become the horror it had been for the past three years. In the stark fluorescent light of that shop it was like you had finally awoken and could see clearly. It was as though you looked upon a stranger. You were much thinner and paler than you could ever remember. Even the structure of your face seemed wrong. Much too boney and sharper; too dark circles ringing your eyes. They looked alien, much too round and large. You look back into your reflected eyes and see… nothing. No life. Just a defeated, broken thing that was barely clinging to life by the fingertips. 

You stifle a sob that threatens to break from your lips. Reaching down and picking up a discarded dress from the store floor you drape it over the mirror. It wasn’t long enough to completely cover but at least now all you can see is the lower half of your legs and feet. Taking a moment to steady your breathing you start to try on the clothing. You find disrobing difficult. Hard to make yourself feel vulnerable in a foreign place when that was all you’d known for so long. Yet, you knew you didn’t want to remain dressed in the clothes that he picked and forced you to wear. 

Bolstering your courage you quickly shuck the blouse and skirt off your body and sift through the pile, looking for what will cover you the most. Thankfully, CiCi had snagged rather modest clothing. You try on a series of long sleeved shirts; a few that you rejected for being too low cut or falling off the shoulder. The pants faired better though most were too long and went past your feet. You bent and rolled up the cuffs, satisfied when they reached just to your ankles. 

After trying on everything CiCi had given you, you settled on three of the long sleeved tops, two lightly worn jeans, and a tan trench coat. Opening the curtain you meekly shuffle out in one of your newly chosen outfits. You knew you probably needed to take the outfit off in order to purchase it but you just couldn’t bring yourself to change back into the clothes you’d come in. They remained in a crumpled heap with the other clothing.

With one long finger hooked under her chin CiCi assesses the outfit. After she finishes her inspection of you she nods her head once.

“Now don’t you look as pretty as a picture? Shall we go on ahead and buy these and get outta here?” You dip your head low and roll your shoulders forward. CiCi tsks.

“Oh honey, none of that now. We’re gonna have to work on that.” You flush, and hunch over even further. Cici merely shakes her head and begins back down the aisle to the front. As you follow her you glance up to the racks of clothing. Among some of the shirts labeled large you notice a light gray cable knit sweater peaking out, warm and inviting. You pause for a moment then set your items down and reach for it. It feels soft and thick. Pulling the sweater off its hanger you put it on. The woolen quality made it feel a little heavy, but that brings you relief. You feel… safe. This too would make it out with you. When you reach the cash register you hand over the clothes in your arms to the clerk.

The clerk eyes your attire with suspicion, as though you would try to make off with something without paying. He quickly glances towards CiCi, who simply reaches over and commenced plucking the tags off everything you now currently wearing. You tense a little as she does so. Finished, CiCi places the tags upon the counter between you and the clerk one eyebrow quirked in challenge. 

The muscles in the clerk’s jaw twitch but he begins scanning the tags. As he totaled everything up you realize you’d have to get your money out to pay. Money that was still tucked away in your bra. You turn to begin fishing out the bills when he clerk says how much it all cost.

“Don’t worry baby, this one’s on me.” You look back over your shoulder and watch as CiCi drops the money into the clerk’s expectant hand. You marvel at her, standing there stupidly as the clerk hands you a plastic bag with your things. Suddenly a lump begins to form in your throat making it hard to breathe. Tears make your vision swim. CiCi pats your arm and rubs it soothingly.

“Now, now. There’s no time for all that nonsense. I am starving. Let’s you and I go get us something to eat.”

So you and CiCi once again make your way out onto the street. Your new clothes, the first real possessions you’d had in a long, long time, in tow.


	2. Take What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CiCi Continues to help you get set up for the night. The two of you seek a place to stay from a roguish gentleman. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s only a tiny bit of Bucky in this chapter, but he’s gonna be making lots of appearances after this so buckle in! Enjoy!

Once you had left the small thrift store CiCi took you three block over to a little mom and pop place that was still open. Once you were seated in a booth towards the back of the diner and CiCi had ordered for you both the two of you sat in mutual silence. The plump, middle - aged woman waiting on you smiles sweetly as she places your drinks on the table. You watch her go, then reach for the steaming mug, and bring it to your lips. You sip your tea slowly, fingers laced around the ceramic mug allowing the heat to seep through your skin.

You glance up to notice CiCi is once again studying you for about the third time tonight. She leans forward setting her elbows on the Formica tabletop. Fingers steepled she rests her chin against them. You lean farther into the booth fidgeting uncomfortably under the new scrutiny. You bow your head and stare into the dark amber liquid in your mug. CiCi inhales a long breath bringing her hands away from her face.

“Alright baby, now I could sit here all night makin’ up all sorts of stories for you, but I’d much rather know the truth. Now tell me, what’s your story?”

Your cheeks heat and you try to sink even farther into the booth, but it doesn’t give. Your eyes flick back to CiCi’s face. She looks at you expectantly. You breathe in slowly, trying to stall as long as you can.

“T - ” your voice is croaky. The air exerted to speak itches your throat and you cough. You take a long draw from your mug. Clearing your throat, you attempt again.

“T – there’s… nothing to tell…” You give a noncommittal shrug of your shoulders. You hope the gesture is enough to hide the dread that was surging back through your veins. You press your hands harder against the smooth sides of the mug to keep them from shaking.

CiCi had given you nothing but patience and kindness since you had met. However, that didn’t mean you were ready to lay bare all your personal details to her. Not yet. It had been nice to forget for a moment. To pretend that your life was just starting from the moment you stepped off that bus. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, afraid to meet CiCi’s eyes again. In your experience refusing to respond could get you very hurt.

CiCi snorts, “Well now that is just a bold –faced lie. Honey, no one gets this twitchy and nervous from nothin’… but,” she leans back, and splays her hands out in surrender. “I know we just met. You don’t wanna tell me what’s what that’s your business.”

You can feel the guilt weaving around your heart; she has been so nice.

The less anyone knows about me, the safer I will be. He can’t find me if I don’t exist anywhere.

“Can I at least get your name?” CiCi played with the handle on her own mug, seeming to appear uninterested.

You weigh your options for a moment. You could lie. Come up with a false name. The idea made you unhappy. Out of everything that had been stripped away from you, your name was the only thing you had left that was yours. It was your identity. The last link to who you used to be.

"Y/N. Just Y/N.” You barely speak above a whisper, still uncertain if you should reveal this small bit of truth about yourself.

The widest smile breaks out across CiCi’s face and you feel the guilt subside. Your waitress comes to your table then, the plates of food balanced in both of her hands.

“There you are, is there anything else I can get you ladies?” Her kind eyes dart between you and CiCi.

“We’re mighty fine now hun, thank you.” CiCi dismisses the waitress. She gives you both one last smile as she walks away.

“Okay Miss Y/N. Let’s dig in to our meal here and start to fatten you up. It hurts me just looking at you. Lord knows if a good, stiff wind blew down the street I’d have to hold onto your or else you’d blow away.” CiCi gave you another toothy grin and winked. You couldn’t help but smile sheepishly.

“After we finish here let’s get you set up in a place to stay.” You quickly swallow the bite you were working on chewing.

“I-I- I don’t have much, just a - ”

CiCi raised her hand up to silence you. “Hush, don’t you worry. I know someone who’s got some room to spare for the time being.”

You stare at her, watching as she brings the slice of grilled cheese to her mouth. She realizes you are watching her and drops the food back onto the plate. She grabs her napkin from her lap.

“What? Did I smear some lipstick on my face or something?” She pulls the chrome napkin dispenser towards her to inspect her face.

“Why?” You swallow thickly, inhaling slowly to prevent the sobs that were bubbling to the surface. “Why are you being so nice to me? You don’t even know me.”

She straightens and pushes the dispenser back into place, “Lord almighty, she can say more than five syllables!”

You continue to stare waiting for an answer. CiCi chuckles.

“Why? I don’t know.” She shrugs “I guess because I recognized the look in your eyes in that alley. I’ve felt it in my own before. I didn’t have any help from no one then, but I fought my way back from it. I guess I just wanted to offer you the help I wished I had had back then.” She levels her gaze to you.

“I don’t know your story. I don’t need to know it. You ain’t never gonna have to tell me if you don’t want to. But life is messed up enough as it is. Turning a blind eye to another’s hurts makes ya mean, and honey, I am too fabulous to be mean.” CiCi preens and fluffs her hair.

You let out an involuntary laugh that breaks the dam of your control. Tears pour down your cheeks. Cici’s face softens and she reaches an outstretched hand to you. You tentatively place your hand in hers and she firmly wraps her fingers around it. You pull a napkin from the dispenser and wipe at your nose.

“Hey,” she shakes your hand gently. You glance to her and take in the somber expression on her face.

“This moment is only temporary. We are gonna get you a place to stay and then we are gonna get you back on your feet. Okay?” You nod and draw in a ragged breath. CiCi releases your hand with one last squeeze.

“Good, now eat up.”

•••

A thirty-minute ride on the C train across town and about a mile walk from the station exit brought the two of you in front of a brownstone apartment building. It looks sturdy and well built, albeit a little aged. You keep close to Cici as she climbs the steps. She turns to the list of residents by the call buttons. When she came to one with the name “Barnes” she repeatedly punches in the button. A series of short, obnoxious buzzes burst from the intercom. A minute passes before a longer buzz and click sound from the entry. CiCi pulls open the door and holds it for you. You scurry in.

Inside you can see rows of mailboxes followed by a small hallway ending at an elevator. You wait as CiCi walks back towards it and presses the button to call it down. You take the elevator to the fifth level. CiCi takes you down the hall of doorways stopping when she reaches the third on the right. She rhythmically wraps against the wood. A crash sounds on the other side followed by a slew of expletives.

You cringe and step closer to CiCi. A lock scrapes against its metal holding and the door is yanked open. A tall man with dark brown, saggy hair and scruff to match leans on the door frame and squints out at the pair of you. It takes a moment for him to register who he’s seeing.

"Jesus, Cees! Do you have any idea what time it is?!” The man swipes his hand across his face.

CiCi stands with arms akimbo, one eyebrow cocked in derision.

“Oh, I’m sorry baby. Were you sleeping? I just assumed you’d be busy with company tonight.”

The man chuckles and adjusts his position so his back is against the frame.

“Naw, no dames breaking down this door tonight but you sugar.”

As he turns out towards the hall you notice the glint of metal come from his left arm. You pull back from CiCi to take closer look. You thought you were imagining it, but no. This man’s entire left arm was made from metal. You duck back, afraid to be caught gawking.

“Oh Bucky, you charmer. We both know I’m too woman for you and my man keeps me plenty happy.”

The man, Bucky, places his right hand over his heart as though he’s been wounded. “Ouch, not pulling any punches tonight are we CiCi?”

By now Bucky notices you timidly standing behind CiCi. He gives you a wicked grin.

“How about your friend then? She looks like she could use some fun and I’m always game to make new friends.”

You glare at him. CiCi’s tenacity was apparently enough to make you bold, but not enough to help you stand your ground. You shuffle closer to her. He laughs.

“Down you dog. We didn’t come here so you could practice your wooing skills. We need an apartment. Your apartment.” CiCi explains.

Bucky blinks. “I thought you said you weren’t here for me to practice "wooing”. I’ve only the one bed in here, but I am very good at sharing.“

CiCi smacks his metal shoulder. Bucky feigns injury, rubbing the spot she hit.

"Cut that out! You know exactly which apartment I’m talkin’ about!”

“Ah,” Bucky blows out a breath, settling his hands on his hips. “See that’s gonna be a no Cees. Gotta keep that open for when… you know, B – Day hits.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. B – Day? What was that supposed to be? You move slightly out from behind CiCi to look at her face. She rolls her eyes. Reaching back, she pulls you out from behind to stand between her and Bucky. You squeak and stumble a bit. CiCi places her hands on your shoulders.

“See this sweet young thing here? She’s in need of a place to stay. Seeing as you’re not entertaining for the time being means that… B – Day has been avoided for another day,” her emphasis on the phrase drips with sarcasm.

Bucky glances down at you, fully taking you in for the first time. You droop into CiCi’s hands, all the bravado you had gained evaporating under his inspection. You focus on the space between his feet and yours, willing your legs to stay put and not flee. The silence seems to stretch forever. Finally, Bucky sighs.

“Hang on.”

You glance up slightly to see he has left the doorway. A moment later he comes back with a set of keys.

“Here. Apartment 406. You gotta be a little rough with it, the handle likes to stick a bit.” You see his hand stretch out to you, key dangling from his fingers. You take the keys from him, briefly meeting his eyes for a moment. He winks and quirks the left side of his mouth. You flush and quickly drop your gaze.

Unable to stand the attention any longer you feint to your left and slip out from CiCi’s grasp. A couple more steps down the hall back towards the elevator you stop and prop yourself up against the wall to wait for CiCi. You hear Bucky whistle.

“I knew my flirting skills were subpar, but am I really that bad?”

CiCi reaches over and pats Bucky’s cheek.

“She’s just a little skittish, that’s all. Don’t take it too personally. Thank you for your help baby. Now go get some sleep. You look like hell.”

Bucky chuckles. “Goodnight Cees,” he leans farther out of his doorway to call out, “goodnight doll!”

You flinch. CiCi shakes her head and walks over to you as you hear the sound of Bucky’s door click back into place.

“C’mon little miss wallflower,” CiCi croons as she slips her arm around you. “Let’s get you set up for the night. I am beat!”

•••

A trip down to the third floor to CiCi’s apartment, who apparently lived in this building as well, and back up to the fourth brought you in front of the door to 406. Bucky hadn’t been kidding when he said you needed to be rough with the handle. It took you and CiCi twisting and butting up against the door to get the thing to pop open. As soon as it gave in you struggle to keep yourself from sprawling out across the apartment floor. CiCi straightens and wipes her brow.

“I’m gonna have a talk with Bucky about that door. Can’t have you throw in’ out your shoulder every time you wanna get in!” She chortles to herself as she leans back out the door and grabs the items she brought up with you.

“He’s the super for the apartment. He’s pretty good about the upkeep ‘round here. Though it seems he’s kind of let this one go…” CiCi runs her hand along the door jam. She shakes her head.

“I suppose it’s in preparation for B – Day.” She waggles her eyebrows at you. You stand in the middle of the apartments living area. The space is sparse. A battered recliner sits in a corner closest to the window looking out onto the street below. You see the fire escape ladder cross the window frame. Turning slowly on your heel you observe an ajar door to the left of the window and chair. That must be the bedroom. Another turn and you see the kitchen. Once again pretty bare but for the appliances you assume come with the apartment.

Completing your inspection of the place you turn back to CiCi and incline your head to the side. You give her a puzzled look.

“What… is “B – Day”?” CiCi gives a nod as though she knew this question was coming.

“It stands for Bitch – Day. Bucky is a good soul, but he has very poor taste in women and even poorer decision – making skills. I won’t get into his business but there has been many a time he’s brought a crazy bitch home only to find its much harder to get them to leave. So, he keeps this apartment below his to sneak away until they’ve decide it’s not worth sticking around.” She waves her hand around to take in the whole space.

You tense a little when she mentions his apartment is right above what would now be yours for the time being. You glance back at the window and out to the fire escape. The one that connected the upper level to yours.

CiCi perceives your discomfort as though she’s reading your thoughts. “Don’t you worry none sweetheart. He may seem like a scoundrel, but he’s a good one. He won’t try to come here now that you’re here.”

That seemed true enough. Bucky appeared to be a good man.

I had thought the same of Colton, and look how that had turned out…

You try to relax your shoulders. Silently, you walk towards the bedroom door and push it open with your hip. Feeling blindly against the wall you find the light switch and flip it on. Inside this room a full bed was pushed against the far wall to the corner. This allowed it to be hidden from the window. Your tension lessens more. At least you’d be able to see all the entry points from the safety of the corner.

Breezing by you CiCi began laying out the blanket and pillow she’d taken from her apartment and set up the bed. You place your bag of newly purchased clothing next to it and proceed to help smooth out the bedding. Once it was complete CiCi stands back and admires her handiwork.

“Alright! Well I think that will set you up for the night Y/N. Tomorrow we’ll see about getting you set up with groceries and hunt you down a job. You gonna be alright up here alone hun?” She swivels to you. You nod tiredly.

“Good. Get some sleep baby. It’ll be a bright new day for you.” Cici softly rubs your cheek before turning to go out the door.

“Thank you, CiCi.”

“You’re welcome, hun.” And with that she heads out.

You face back towards the bed taking in the meager belongings you’d accumulated that night. Some bought; even more borrowed. You feel the weight of it all pull at your shoulders. It had been a long, emotional day.

But you’re free. You’re alone and safe. Free.

You sift through the other items CiCi had left behind finding a camisole and light, silky night shorts. You assume she meant for you to sleep in these, but they felt too much like what you’d been forced to wear day and night before. Even if they were a little less… provocative.

He isn’t here. He didn’t choose these.

Exasperated with yourself you strip out of the night’s outfit and pull on your sleep attire. After you finish you go into the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Switching on the lights you push yours limits farther and peer into the mirror. You tug the hair tie of your braid out and begin to hand comb through your hair, wincing as it strains the hair on the sore spot of your scalp. That guy earlier tonight had yanked a lot harder than you supposed.

You mentally tally all the essentials you’ll need to purchase, like a tooth and hairbrush, while avoiding looking at the bruises peaking through the camisole. Some were almost healed. Others rather fresh from only being dealt a few days before.

You push aside the memories threatening to drag you under. You didn’t want to relive those moments. No here where a new life was so close to beginning. You turn abruptly and cut the lights off. You walk into the center of the bedroom. The bright lights above you and the thin clothing cause you to feel exposed and raw. You inhale through your nose and blow it out of your mouth fighting the hysteria, but you’re too exhausted. You kneel and sift through your clothes once more pulling out the gray sweater you got. Hugging it close, you pull it over your head. The heavy material seems to pull you back to your senses. Steadying you.

Taking a walkthrough of the apartment once more you double and triple check the locks to the windows and door, making certain it’s all secure.

Going back into the bedroom you shut the door and bolt the handle lock. Deciding to leave the light on you crawl onto the bed, curling into the blankets provided by CiCi. You wiggle your way into the corner of the bed, away from the window and facing the door, and fall slowly into a fitful rest.


	3. Thin as Paper Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a new day in your new life. You get an unexpected and surprising visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re starting to get into the meat of the story and I can’t for the relationship to progress! I wanted to keep writing but this particular scene continued to morph and really just needed a chapter all on its own. I hope you enjoy!

Cruel hands bite into the skin of your wrists as they wrestle your arms behind your back. Another buries deep into your hair and wrenches your head back. You cry out, tears trailing heavily down your face. Eyes clamped shut you swallow your sobs, endeavoring to block out the torment.

“Open your eyes Y/N… I said open them bitch!” Colton backhands you across the face. You whimper pitifully and comply, sagging against his lackey’s hold. You carefully raise your eyes to look at Colton’s face. He sneers and kneels, craning your neck at an odd, uncomfortable angle. His face a few inches from yours.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Whose idea was it?” You shudder, fighting hard not to burst into sobs. You take too long to answer. Colton tightens his grip in your hair, giving your head an impatient shake. A small whimper escapes your lips.

“I-I-it was m-mine. I de-decided we should d-do it.” You answer in a hushed voice. You stare beyond his shoulder, focusing on the petite, blonde woman trembling behind Colton. Her wide eyes catch yours and she shakes her head slightly. You break contact, reluctantly peering into Colton’s face. He huffs and releases his hold on your hair. You watch with trepidation as he rises back to his feet. 

“You see Y/N, I just don’t believe you have the guts.” He pivots away and prowls over to the blonde. She continues to shake violently. “With how good we treat you and well frankly,” he circles around, standing just behind her. The blonde snivels as Colton runs his fingers through her fair-haired strands. “you’re such an easy lay I’m pretty sure you love being here.” He casts his eyes back to you, a malicious smile plastered to his face.

He looks over to a shadowed corner of the room. Lounging in a high backed leather chair a man silently watches. He inclines his head, a motion to continue. Colton returns to his forward position. The eagerness and malice rolling off him in waves.

You yank against the lackey’s grasp pleading with Colton.

“No! No! It was all me – Colton – Colton, please!” You didn’t see when he had pulled the serrated blade out. In a flash, he reaches across the blonde woman’s throat.

•••

You bolt upright, your screaming from your nightmare fighting its way from your mouth in a short, broken sob. Chest heaving you frantically you scan your surroundings. 

The room is overly bright, a combination of the overhead lights and sunshine that made it through the window curtain. Your clothing and shoes from the previous night still lay upon the floor. No shadowy men hiding in the corners. No maniacal henchmen waiting to torture.

You pull your legs up to your chest and hug them tight letting your head fall against your knees. Your eyes slide close. You can still see Sarah’s terrified face behind your eyelids. A shuddering breath passes through you.

It’s over. You got away.

It’s becoming your mantra. You repeat it over and over until your quivering is more or less gone. Blowing your breath out through pursed lips you slowly release your legs and stretch. You crawl to the edge of the bed and place your feet on the laminate flooring. 

You stare absent – mindedly at your clothing strewn on the ground, suddenly aware you have no clue what to do now. You have managed to escape hell and had found a place to stay, however temporary. It’s been so long since you had any freedom to make choices for yourself you were at a loss for where to begin rebuilding the shattered pieces of your life. 

You take in the scattered clothing and rumpled bedding once more. If you are going to start picking up pieces then here would be a good place to start. So, you commence with gathering and folding your new wardrobe. Next to the bathroom door is small closest with sliding doors. You slide it open to reveal a mostly empty space with a shelf bisecting the middle of it. On the top row hangs a few men’s shirts. You eye them wearily certain that they belonged to the man named Bucky. Who seemed to have a claim to this apartment as well as the one above it. You didn’t know if you entirely understood why this B – Day warranted the use of two apartments and you didn’t really want to know. 

You set your small stack on the shelf. Hanging anything felt a little too permanent and you weren’t sure how long you’d be staying. You slide the door back into place and return to the bed, straightening and smoothing out the blankets. In no time at all you have the sparse room looking clean and spotless.

Sitting on the edge of the bed you tap your foot with nervous energy. Fiddling with a strand of your hair you realize it’s been a few days since you’d bathed. Heading to the bathroom you look around in the cupboard to find a clean towel. You run the water for a shower, strip out of your clothing, and climb in.

The hot water helps to relax you. By the time you’re finished you feel a small measure of peace. Getting dressed, you return to the bathroom to finger comb your hair. Since you didn’t have a proper brush yet you decide to loosely braid it. Satisfied you have done all you can do you exit to the room.

Thump

The tiny sliver of peace you felt dissipates. You stand stock still in the center of the room straining to hear. A faint scraping followed by another dull thud is coming from the living area.

Ice pools in your veins. For a moment you feel light-headed and you realize you forgot to breathe. Desperately you search for anything to use as a weapon. The only objects left laying around were your borrowed sneakers. You snatch them from the floor. If you threw them hard enough at least they could distract and give you time to run for the window.

With dread you slowly unlock the bedroom door and peer into the next room. Everything was as it had been. Another scraping sound comes from the front door. 

You stealth into the living room, tiptoeing towards the door. The blood rushing through your ears deafening.

Suddenly the door bursts forward. You shriek and hurl the shoe in your right hand as hard as you can, aiming for the intruder’s head. The shaggy-haired man notices the projectile and ducks back behind the outer wall of the hallway just before it sails through the air he had occupied.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I yield!”

Two hands pop back into view of the doorway. One flesh and one very distinctly not so fleshy. The sunlight from the window behind you glints off the metal.

Your heart beats rapidly with the sudden spike of adrenaline as the man - Bucky - slowly peaks around the corner to you. You lower your left hand but keep the shoe clutched tight in your grasp. Hands still raised above his head he cautiously stands in the doorway.

“You were really trying to take my head off there, weren’t you? Annnnd by the looks of it, you’re ready to go for round two.” He says with a cheeky grin. 

“Wha-what are you doing here?” You snap. The last part came out a little more wavering than you would have liked. 

Bucky runs his hands through his already ruffled hair, blowing out a breath.

“Ah. Well I knocked and called out a couple times. When you didn’t answer I figured you were out…” he trails off, his eyes wandering from your face to take in the rest of you. It’s at that moment you realize you had only put back on the camisole and shorts after your shower. Heat suffuses your cheeks and you sprint back into the bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind you.

“Sorry!… sorry.” Calls Bucky. You can hear him walk around the apartment as you scurry to the closet. You push the door open and rifle through the pile, yanking out a pair of pants and an embroidered peasant top. You finish getting dressed and creep soundlessly to the door. 

As quietly as possible you open the door a crack to peak out. Bucky mills about the kitchen, placing items into the fridge. Apprehensively you edge along the wall towards him, stopping so the bar counter is between you two.

He turns and pauses in his work to look at you, the tips of his ears a slight pinkish color. You shift uncomfortably, still feeling the redness in your own face. You glance down to the counter and notice the cardboard box for the first time. Inside you can see the tops to food items and containers.

“CiCi said you’d be short on funds and would need a little help for a while.” He explains as he resumes putting the food away.

“She also asked, or rather bossed, me into fixing the door. Gotta say, it is a bitch to get open. I usually just use the fire escape to come in here. That’s why I’m here. I’m sorry for just barging in. I honestly thought you were gone.”

You look at the time displayed on the microwave above the stove. 12:17. You were surprised you had slept as long as you did. Sleep didn’t usually come so easily for you. You’d been more exhausted than you thought. You slowly return your gaze to Bucky. He’s hunched over placing more items onto the bottom shelf of the fridge.

“Thank you…” you can barely make your voice louder than I whisper. 

Bucky straightens and faces you, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You flush a brighter red and stare down at your bare feet.

“You’re…welcome?” He voice falters, turning the statement into more of a question. “…okay! Why don’t you go ahead and eat something? I’m gonna see about fixing the door. Here’s your weapon back.” He winks as he reaches into the cardboard box once more and hands you your shoe. You cautiously take it back, wary of him.

Bucky picks up the box and heads back to the doorway. You watch him a moment as he pulls out a tool belt and begins assessing the door.

You place the shoe with its partner on the floor and pad into the kitchen quietly. This was perhaps the most awkward you had felt in a long time. Terrified and debased were feelings you were well acquainted with, but awkward was in a league of its own. It made you feel jittery and disconnected, like you’re free falling. 

You begin to pull food out of the fridge. Bread, meat, cheese, lettuce, and a few condiments. For the third time in the last twenty-four hours you are overcome with gratitude. In truth, you had completely lost hope in people, having seen and experienced the worst first – hand. When you broke free you didn’t expect to find any aid. 

No one had bothered to help before… except for Sarah. 

You clear your throat to dislodge the lump forming from the thought. Bucky pauses in his work at the sudden noise. From the corner of your eye you see him looking at you. You hunch your shoulders and concentrate on the sandwich you’re making. It seems an eternity passes before he shrugs and resumes working. The muscles in your neck are already aching with the tension you’re carrying. You stretch your neck to the side trying to ease the strain. 

It’s so silly really, your apprehension of this man who had done nothing but offer you generosity. Just because you have had the misfortune of meeting people who fed off the misery of others didn’t mean everyone was the same. You just didn’t think you could bring yourself to trust a man again…at least not yet. 

Even so, you would at least acknowledge his kindness with your own. You set aside your completed sandwich and pull a couple more pieces of bread to make another. 

“Shit!” A loud bang rings in the room. You whirl around, one hand gripping the edge of the counter. Bucky has the door gripped in one hand, the top hinge pulled from the frame. Eyes travelling to the floor you discover the source of the racket.

“I uh… I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help a fella out?” He weakly attempts to stretch his arm down as if to retrieve the drill he’d just dropped.

You place the knife you were holding down and carefully approach him. You bend your knees to pick up the drill, ensuring you’d still be able to see him. Rising, you hand it to him.

“Thanks doll, could I convince you to help me just a minute longer? If you held the door in place I could get it screwed back in place a lot faster than me doin’ it all alone.” You consider him a moment, taking in his playful smile. You were about to refuse when you finally lock eyes with him for the first time. 

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Three years ago, you would have just rolled your eyes at the adage. But in that time, you had learned the truthfulness of that phrase. Men can lie with their words and smiles but they couldn’t hide their intent from their eyes. 

Staring into Bucky’s piercing blue ones now, you couldn’t see any guile or malice. Just an earnestness that made you ache. 

You blink and take in a deep breath before nodding slowly. His smile broadens. Faint lines crinkle around the corners of his eyes.

“Perfect. Okay, so place your hands here and here. Just keep pressure on this side so it stays flush against the frame. Great, now hold still for just a moment.” As if you could move. You never thought you would ever willingly let a man so near you again. Yet here you are with one practically pressed against you. You stare up and watch as Bucky places a screw and drills it in.

“One more and….done! Okay little rabbit, you can hop away now.” He teases as he steps away from you to allow you space to move. You scrunch your nose up at the remark. He chuckles.

“See? Little rabbit.” He puts his finger to his own nose and mimics you. You try not to smile, but one corner of your mouth betrays you. You turn to go back to the kitchen as Bucky tests the door. You pick up the last sandwich you had been making and return to him. He opens and closes the door a couple times. It freely moves without sticking.

“All fixed!” He exclaims.

You extend your hands and present him with the sandwich.

“Thank you… for all your help.”

Bucky leans back slightly in surprise but recovers quickly.

“Wow, thank you doll. I wasn’t expecting a meal out of this deal!” He jokes and reaches to take the sandwich from you. As he does so his fingers brush along the back of your hand. You involuntarily shrink back. The tension that had been present upon Bucky’s arrival returns. You fold your arms across your middle and try to bore a hole in the floor with your stare. Bucky coughs, a nervous tick with the sudden change in mood.

“Oh! I almost forgot. Cees also asked if I would give you this.” He digs into the back pocket of his jeans and hands you a folded slip of paper, careful this time not to touch you.

You unfold it and read,

Hey Sug,

I had to jet off to my day job, figured I’d let you sleep. I’ll be home late afternoon.

XOXO

CiCi

You finish reading the note and slide it into your own jean pocket. You head back to the kitchen to eat your sandwich.

Once you retrieve it you face Bucky again and lean your back against the countertop. He scarves down the sandwich and goes about gathering his tools. 

“So… you gonna stay cooped up in your cozy burrow little rabbit?” Bucky asks, resuming his mild ribbing. You can’t say that it bothered you all the much.

You chew slowly. You weren’t sure when exactly “late afternoon” would be and even though you felt secure in this little apartment there wasn’t much for you to do here. You shrug noncommittally. 

Bucky finishes his tool retrieval and hauls the box he’d brought with him into his arms. 

“Well… if you’re interested I could really use a gofer. I have to fix a dryer on the fritz in the laundry room. It would certainly help to have an extra pair of hands to give me the tools I need. What do you say?” 

Bucky waits patiently as you mull over your options. You weren’t keen to spend an inordinate amount of time in the presence of a strange man whom you had only known for a half hour tops. You were going to decline and stay secluded but one thought nagged at you.

You’ve been locked in a cage for the past three years. You can’t stay holed up and hidden here forever. If you do Colton will still be winning.

He had taken so much away from you already. Him stealing away your freedom because you were too scared was a thought you just couldn’t stand. You swallow the last little bit of sandwich you were chewing.

“Alright.” Your voice steadier than you actually feel.

Bucky nods his head once, a broad, gleaming smile on his face once again. You’re taken aback by the sudden flutter of warm that spreads through you. You push aside the confusing, swirl of emotions. You could deal with that another day.

“Let’s go then.”


	4. Hello My Old Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are slowly learning bits and pieces about Bucky, but is that a good or bad thing? CiCi continues on her mission to help get your life back in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out to be a very slow burn, which is killing me so I’m sure it’s killing you! But all good things come to those who wait! ;) I promise it’ll be good! Again, thank you so much for your support

“Can you hand me the needle – nosed pliers?”

An hour later found you sitting cross – legged on the floor next to one of the dryers, periodically handing over whatever tool Bucky asked for.

You rummage through the cardboard box and grab the handle to pliers with elongated tips. You assume that was the correct tool as you place it in his hand and he continues his work.

Looking around the laundry room your eyes once again fall on the upright piano tucked in the back. When you first walked in you had honed in on the instrument. As Bucky led the way to the broken dryer you drifted towards it. The piano wasn’t in the greatest condition. The finish on the wood was chipped and dinged; the keys worn over from countless hours of playing. You could see it had been well loved. You placed your fingers lightly on the keys.

That’s it, my little songbird, play a tune for me. 

You drew your hand back, clenching your fingers into a fist. Phantom pains shot up your right arm from your hand. You pulled it up to your chest and rubbed at the puckered scars across your knuckles.

“Do you play?”

Bucky’s voice snapped you back to the present, but the memories still clung to you like tar. You turned to him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“W-what?”

He gestured nonchalantly towards the piano.

“Do you play? You could play something if – “

“No.” You stepped back away from it, turning fully to face Bucky. You shook your head to emphasize your word. 

“Oh. Alright… well it’s been there for about a month now. It used to belong to this old guy, Omar. He lived on the first floor – really nice guy – anyways, he would play that thing day and night. He died recently and no one wanted to claim the piano so I tried to get rid of it but here it sits. Now people have grown so used to it, it’s just become part of the scenery.” He turned and motioned to the dryer.

Bucky had launched into a series of stories about the tenants of the apartment building. He had seemed content to just talk without any feedback from you, and for that you were grateful. Like all one – sided conversations though he soon fell silent and concentrated on his task at hand. Now you alternated between gazing across the room toward the piano and sneaking glances of Bucky.

There had been a time that no one could separate you from a piano. Even when you couldn’t be behind one you would tap your fingers along to a silent melody in your head. The music flowed through you and you drifted away with it. Then your mother died and you became even more of a slave to your music, using it to escape from your heartbreak. If only you had known what that would lead to…

You close your eyes, lost in memory. When you open them again you peek under your lashes to watch Bucky. With his attention solely focused now on the dryer repair you feel safe enough to study him as much as you like.

You had decided that Bucky was an attractive man, albeit a little unkempt. He had pulled his shaggy hair back into a tiny bun at the back of his head while he worked. You found it a little silly and, admittedly, a little cute. Your eyes travel from his profile down to his arms. Studying his metallic left arm, you can see that it’s made of interlocking metal bands. It appears to be more than just a prosthetic because as you watch him work you can see the metal bands shifting and realigning. You wonder how it works but know you will never ask. It was hard enough to endure interaction with him when it was unbidden. You weren’t about to draw attention to yourself or the fact that you had been ogling him.

So instead you settle on watching him, now viewing the muscles in his right arm bunch and release. You followed the curve of muscle in his forearm, the rest hidden under the sleeve of his dirty baseball tee. The fabric of the shirt hugs him rather nicely allowing you to see he is well toned underneath. Heat slowly spreads up to your cheeks. Nervously you shift a little away from him, pressing your back against the side of the dryer. Now you’d be less likely to let your eyes roam over him, but it left you staring back at the piano. 

You huff, lean your head against the metal siding, and allow your eyes to shut. 

Another moment of silence passes. It was beginning to make you feel edgy. You suddenly want Bucky to start rambling again. At least then you could focus on his voice and stories. What could you get him talking about that would be unobtrusive.

“Bucky…”

“Hmm?”

“…Is that your real name? Did your parents really name you Bucky?” That seemed like good neutral ground. 

Bucky guffaws. You crane your head to see him smiling again, all teeth and crinkled eyes.

“Naw. My given name is James Buchanan Barnes. I got the nickname "Bucky” when I signed up to be a soldier.“

"A soldier?”

“Yeah. Being the orphaned son of one, it seemed like the right path for me to go on.”

 

You ponder on that for a moment. So, he used to be a soldier. That must be how he lost and got his metal arm.

“You know, I’m just now realizing I haven’t caught what your name is?” Bucky pauses in his repair job to glance over to you expectantly. You delay a moment then take a breath.

“Y/N.”

He grins wide, rubbing his right hand against his jeans. He sticks it out to you. You hesitantly place your hand against his. His fingers clasp around yours in a firm but gentle handshake.

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Y/N. Even if you did try to take me out with a shoe today.” He winks and releases his grip on your hand.

You can’t help it. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You give a little shake of your head and glance away to hide it, but not before Bucky notices.

“I saw that smile. Knew I’d get one out of you even if it killed me. Now that I know you look so pretty doing it, it’s my aim to make you do it more often.”

You blush and draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around them. You aren’t used to being complimented and you still aren’t sure if you mind it or not. You didn’t know how to respond but it seemed you wouldn’t have to as Bucky just returned the dryer repair.

“I thought I heard voices in here.” A dark -skinned, thin man with a shaved head pops around the corner carrying two, black garbage bags.

If not for the voice similarities you wouldn’t have recognized CiCi. The white t-shirt and black cargo pants a stark contrast to the crystal bustier and hot pink skirt you’d seen her in the night before. CiCi smiles and wriggles her fingers at you. 

“Hey sweetheart, I’m glad to see you out of the apartment and not holed up in it like I thought you’d be.”

You raise your hand and wave back to her, unsure if you should be insulted or pleased to exceed her expectations.

“Has he been nice to you?” CiCi inclines her head down towards Bucky.

Bucky snorts. “Hey! I am always a gentleman!” 

“Oh really?” mocks CiCi, one eyebrow raised.

At that same moment someone behind CiCi clears their throat. Bucky looks up and stares at CiCi. 

“Do… you have company?” CiCi shakes her head.

“No, but it seems you do.” She steps back to reveal a voluptuous, platinum blonde haired woman. She beams when she sees Bucky.

“Baby!” She breezes past CiCi coming up short when she sees you sitting close by. The smile fades a little and she slightly glares at you. You inch away, becoming a little shaken by the instant hostility. You were just here to help, nothing more.

Bucky groans and lets his head fall against the dryer door with a metallic thunk.

“Why did you let her in here?” He hisses.

CiCi leans closer, arms folded in front of her. 

“I didn’t. She ambushed me the second I opened the door. Now, I could have dealt with the situation, but then I realized, it’s not my problem. This is what happens when you let the little head think for the big one!” She gestures first towards Bucky’s groin, then to his head. 

You watch their interaction then flick your gaze over to the blonde. The beaming smile has completely disappeared, replaced with a scowl that mars her pretty features. Her arms are crossed and she looks like she’s about to throw a fit. She senses your stare. You look away before she can level her glare at you.

CiCi straightens and reaches out her hand to you. You take it and she hoists you up to your feet.

“Time to clean up your mess, Buck.”CiCi pats his cheek as he gives her an annoyed look.

Cici beckons you to follow. You keep your head down and stay close. Bucky sighs.

“C’mon Rachel we need to t – “

“My name’s Rebecca!” The blonde shrieks.

You wince and hear CiCi mutter, “Lord, have mercy.”

•••

“That boy just keeps gettin’ himself into trouble, and all because he refuses to see he’s got a problem.”

CiCi had brought you up to her apartment, trash bags in tow. When you entered she upturned each bag to reveal piles of women’s clothing. Just before she had gone to her day job CiCi made some calls and collected more clothing for you.

You thanked her over and over, swearing that you would make it up to her, to which she simply waved you off and sent you to go through the piles while she got more comfortable.

So you rifled through mounds of clothing, picking out the pieces you liked while CiCi sat at a vanity table applying her makeup and ranting about the drama from downstairs.

You weren’t sure what to make of what CiCi’s words insinuated and the incident you witnessed between Rachel/Rebecca and Bucky. You pause in your sorting.

“Does… Bucky always bring girls like that here?” He didn’t seem to be a bad person, but you also didn’t want to get tangled up with someone who treated women so… casually. You were starting to think it would be best to keep your distance.

CiCi blows out a breath. “I’m sorry, I’m painting Buck in a really bad light, aren’t I?” She swivels in her seat to look over at you. 

“No, it’s not a common occurrence. Poor Bucky has some… demons that like to hang on his back from time to time. So, he does everything he can to forget them – everything except what’s healthy.” She makes a gesture of throwing a shot back. 

“Most of the girls come with the understanding that it’s a one – and – done situation, but sometimes… they get a little carried away.” With that explanation CiCi swerves back to the vanity and reapplies another layer of lipstick.

You mull over this information as you watch her work. A quick swipe along her lips and CiCi rubs them together with a pop. She stands, smoothing out her blue fringe dress and posing for you with a wink, tossing the hair of the lavender wig she’d put on. You grin up at her. This was more the CiCi you remembered.

“You look good CiCi.”

“Look good, feel good! We should do your makeup. I bet you’d look pretty as a picture.”

The grin falters a bit and you shake your head emphatically. The last thing you needed to do was start drawing attention to yourself.

“No, thank you.”

Eyes narrowed CiCi points a finger at you, her other hand propped up on her hip.

“Mark my words, we are gonna get you outta this little wallflower phase. You are too much of a stunner to be looking so sad and defeated.”

You cast your eyes down to the fabric wrapped around your hands. “We’ll see.”

CiCi sighs. Changing the subject she walks over to her bed, snatching up the small stack of papers she had pulled from one of the bags before dumping it out.

“I also snagged you some applications while I was out. I figured you could get a head start in finding employment.”

Eagerly, you take the papers from her. The sooner you could find a job, the sooner you could feel less like a burden and pay back CiCi’s generosity. Sifting through the papers, however, you begin to feel dismayed. You lean back on your heels, crestfallen.

Inspecting herself in a full length mirror, occasionally fluffing up her wig, CiCi catches your dejected form.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Th – they want my social security and proof of identity… I don’t have any of that…. Even if I did I can’t…” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying it.

How were you going get a job if you couldn’t use your information? The moment you put it out there they would know where to find you.

CiCi bends over and slides one of the papers from your hands. She skims through it.

“It seems to me they just need a social and any proof of identity.” CiCi’s mouth curled into a mischievous grin.

You furrow your brows, puzzling over her choice of words. Somehow you weren’t sure you were going to like this.


	5. Baby, You're a Force of Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New introductions cause you to feel a little overwhelmed. Someone begins to slip into the cracks of the walls you built around yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is a little disjointed because I was still trying to determine the sequence of events that occur in the story. Luckily, I did figure it out halfway through writing this and the next part is gonna be reallllly good! Please enjoy, you all are amazing! 
> 
> Y/F/F/N - Your fake first name
> 
> Y/F/L/N - Your fake last name
> 
> Mi hija/hijo - my daughter/son
> 
> Ay, pobrecito, se pondrá mejor - Oh, poor thing, it will get better
> 
> I do not own any images/gifs used. Rights to the owners.

CiCi carted you off to the local library where you sat for hours milling through what felt like miles of microfiche obituaries looking for a “new” you. It made you leery, taking someone’s identity. Even if they were dead.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Unease made your stomach twist itself into knots.

CiCi turns away from the computer she’s been staring at after you voice your concerns about this plan for the third time. She faces you, pulling your hand off the desk and holding it so you look at her.

“I know I said that your business is none mine, but can I tell you what I sense?” You hold her gaze, take a deep breath, and nod.

“I’m sensing that you’re running from someone you don’t want to find you again, which is why we can’t use your information. You need a job to provide for yourself. Now, you can’t do that without an identity. These people,” she gestures vaguely to the screen in front of you, “they aren’t gonna be paying no mind what happens to their names now. Your just borrowing it to help yourself for a little while. We gonna get you back to a place that’s your own.” 

CiCi gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You sigh.

“Okay, you’re right.” You both resume the search.

A few more minutes pass in silence.

“Now this one looks pretty good…” CiCi taps your shoulder. You lean over to skim the obituary.

“Y/F/F/N Y/F/L/N…” you study the black and white image of a young woman’s face. If you didn’t look too hard at it, she could be you. You meet eyes with CiCi. Your lips curve into a small smile. She scrunches her nose and squeals. 

•••

After a trip to the vital records office for a birth certificate and a request sent for a new social security card you calculate that it will take at least two weeks before you can start applying for jobs. Which is too bad for you because you needed to land a job like yesterday.

“How do you feel about light housework?” CiCi asks as you ride a bus back to your apartment building. You glance up quizzically wondering where she is going with this.

CiCi shrugs, “I’m just saying, if you don’t mind it there might be a way for you to make a couple hundred while you wait. Tía Maria is pretty spry, but she does need help from time to time. We do what we can, but she likes to keep her independence. If it were to help you though… well then she might be willing to accept the help.”

You lean forward a little. 

“…Who’s Tía Maria?”

•••

Tía Maria, you learn, is a tiny, blind Hispanic woman who lives on your floor.

“Her name isn’t really Tía Maria.” CiCi explains as you ride up to your floor to meet her.

“Then why do you call her that?”

“Because Tía Trinidad just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

You quirk your eyebrows at her and snort. A ding sounds and the elevator doors slide open. You two share a laugh as you step out.

“She likes taking care of us, makes her feel valued. She’s family.”

You can feel yourself deflate a little the closer you get to Tía Maria’s apartment. You trusted CiCi, you really did, but meeting a lot of strange, new people was rather taxing on your nerves. Okay, so it had really only been two people, but when you’re taught to mistrust new people who came into the picture you tended to live on high alert. 

The instant you met the woman, however, it was difficult to remain uneasy. When she opened the door she looked out at you two but a little off kilter and out of focus.

“Hello?”

“Hey Tía, how you doing hun?” CiCi asks as she leans over to get eye level with her.

Tía breaks out into a big toothy grin. She reaches up and traces her hands over CiCi’s face.

“ ¡Ay, CiCi, mi hija! How are you?” Tía beams.

CiCi returns the smile and Tía pinches her cheek. “I’m good, real good. You still needing help around here?”

“Ah sí, but I don’t want to be a burden. I know how busy you and Bucky are.”

“Hush, you know we aren’t too busy to help you! You are never a burden to us. The help I was offering, however, is the aid of my newest friend and your neighbor, Y/N.” CiCi grabs your hand and guides you to stand in front of Tía.

You knew it was coming, but you still flinched when she placed her hands on your face to “see” you. She tuts softly as her fingers ran over your cheekbones, eyes, and mouth. She completes her inspection of you and sets her hands on her hips.

“You are much too skinny, come in and I will fix you something to eat.”

•••

The days pass by quickly as you get up each morning and head over to help Tía Maria.

Well, it was more companionship than help she seemed to want, as she constantly shooed you out of her way. She’d make you sit and then scurry away to load a plate of food for you. Tía fed you so much you wondered how you even made it back to your apartment without being wheelbarrowed there.

You did manage to do some light housework, cleaning in the corners and washing the dishes while she cooked. The woman loved to cook. It was easy to forget she was blind by the efficiency and speed with which she traveled around her kitchen, offering bits of advice while she worked or telling stories from her time in years since past.

The hardest part to get used to in this arrangement was the sudden and unexpected touching that tended to happen as Tía moved around. It was easier to control your flinching when you were aware that someone was about to touch you. As Tía bustles about while you put away dishes, she brushes along your back. You squeak and send a handful of silverware clattering to the floor. You weren’t sure who was more startled, you or the poor little blind woman clasping a hand to her chest. You mutter an apology and bend to scoop up the mess.

Tía Maria feels her way to your face. She tenderly strokes your cheekbone with her thumb. 

“Ay, pobrecito, se pondrá mejor.”

You aren’t sure what that means, but it sounds reassuring. You nod your head into her hand and the two of your resume your routine.

•••

A thunderous pounding announces someone at your door on the morning of the two week mark since your arrival. You’d been in the kitchen making breakfast when it started. You drop to the floor and scramble to the wall, pressing your back to it.

Your only visitor was CiCi, who had a much softer knock. You thought maybe it could be Bucky, but then he knew how jumpy you could be from his one and only trip to your apartment so you didn’t think he’d try hammering your door down.

“C’mon Buck! I know you’re in there. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. Enough is enough, we need to talk about what happened.” A smooth, commanding voice shouts through the door. It was the voice of someone who was used to being listened to and obeyed.

So they were looking for Bucky? That made sense, considering this used to be his secret apartment. Or rather not-so-secret as the case may be. Could this be a trick? But how could Colton know about Bucky or that you’d met him?

Trying to silence the warning bells going off in your head you slowly stand and tiptoe to the door. You unbolt it but leave the sliding lock in place. Bolstering your courage you hold your breath and crack open the door.

A tall, clean-cut man in a leather jacket, a form fitting shirt, and jeans stood just outside. His arm is raised to begin another round of pounding. His dirty blonde hair is clipped short and well kept. The perfect picture of the All-American boy.

In mid-swing he realizes the door is cracked and blinks. He peers through the crack about to go on a tirade when you open it a little more to reveal your confused face. The man steps back, surprised.

“Oh. Uhh, you’re not Bucky.” The man’s hand travels up to run through his hair. He chuckles awkwardly.

“Is Bucky in there by chance?”

You shake your head slightly. Exasperated, the man leans against the door frame, resting his head on his supporting hand. He rubs his eyes as though he’s fighting off a headache.

“I don’t suppose you know where I could find him either?”

Your sightings of Bucky had been few and far between, which you decided was best. The less you saw of him, or any man, the better you could protect yourself.

“N – no, sorry…” he sighs, straightens, and digs into the inside pocket of his jacket. You close the gap a little, shielding yourself.

“Well, if you see him can you let him know I’m looking for him? And if he needs to get a hold of me he can reach me here?” The man hands you a business card. You carefully slide your hand out and grab it. The design was simple with “Steve Rogers” in plain script followed by a phone number. You nod without meeting his gaze and quietly close the door. You listen as the man’s footsteps fade down the hallway.

•••

Following your unexpected visit you head across the way to Tía’s doorway and collect her and her grocery bags. With bags draped over one arm and Tía holding to the other you head off to the local market.

You enjoyed these small trips you made with her bi-weekly. It forced you to look up and examine the world around you instead of cowering in fear, keeping your head down. You would describe the scenery around to Tía while she tap, tap, tapped along next to you. 

Like the small black and white puppy tugging at the leash its owner held. It bounds over to you, sniffs your shoe and rushes off. Or the shadow patterns the tree leaves left all long the cracked and pocked concrete you’re walking on. These small details made you feel lighter, and for a moment you could forget.

When you reach the market you dutifully but happily follow along behind Tía as she takes the lead. She chats up her friends and the vendors as she picks and feels her way through the produce. You hold open the bags for her to drop her purchased items in.

Tía Maria chitters away about the good deals she’d haggled for on the way home. You smile at her good humor and ponder on how good it made you feel. It was so nice to help and care for someone. It was a balm to your bruised and battered soul.

As you neared the entrance to your apartment building you observe a familiar figure approaching from the opposite direction.

Bucky saunters closer, hands in his pockets. He stops and waits at the front stoop for you.

“Well I thought this day just couldn’t any better but then you two ladies show up.”

“Oh!” Tía exclaims. Bucky jumps up and bends to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. She tweaks his cheek.

“It’s so good to hear your voice, mi hijo. Have you met Y/N yet?” She searches behind her for you hand. You reach over and clasp hers

Tía tugs you closer, closing the distance between you and Bucky. He smiles at you. Your stomach flutters.

“Ah, yes. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Y/N. Hi.”

“Hey.” You quietly return, pretending to be occupied with the bags you’re carrying. 

“Here let me help you with those.” He steps forward and takes one from you hand.

Tía pats Bucky’s face lovingly. “Such a gentleman! And he es muy guapo too, no? Don’t you think Y/N?”

Busy rearranging the bags evenly in your hands you give an absent-minded “mmhmm” to her question.

Wait – most of the time you didn’t understand the Spanish that Tía Maria spoke, but what little you did remember from your one and only high school Spanish class suddenly registered in your brain. Didn’t ‘guapo’ mean…

Your head snaps up. All you can see for a moment is Bucky’s self-assured smirk, though his ears a tinged a light pink. 

“You think I’m handsome?” He teases.

You feel like a fish out of water. Your mouth snaps open then shut again, your mind short circuiting and coming up with nothing to say. Heat rises to your cheeks and the only thing you can think to do is bolt. So you turn and scurry up the stoop.

Tía says something to which Bucky chuckles but you can’t here what is said. God, if only the pavement would open up and swallow you whole. You hurriedly key in the entry code.

As the door buzzes and the lock releases you open the door, pausing to allow Tía to go first. You refuse to look at Bucky as he raises his arm above your head to hold the door. You’re about to enter when Bucky leans over you.

“Don’t worry, Rabbit,” he murmurs low in your ear.

“You’re secret’s safe with me. Honestly, I find you very beautiful too.” He straightens and it takes you a moment to remember how to work your legs.

You all but run after Tía, Bucky following at a more subdued pace. 

All of you huddle into the elevator, you pressed against the farthest wall from Bucky. His compliment had shaken you up. You couldn’t say you were displeased to hear he found you appealing. In fact, your heart had quite liked the notion. Yet, that was what terrified your mind the most. 

You had determined to stay clear of men, but this one in particular was sneaking past your defenses and that wouldn’t do.

For how could you protect your heart if he could touch it so easily?


	6. I Just Want to Know You Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The job search proves harder than you thought. Nightmares keep you awake. When the dam of emotions finally breaks who will be there to comfort you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been dying to write this part! I may or may not have discovered that I probably have a bit of a hand fetish after writing this as well… Please Enjoy!

The city street bustles around you as you slump dejectedly on the bus stop bench. You’d been out every day searching for work since you’d opened your mailbox to find the plain white envelope containing your new social security card.

You had been elated initially, unable to wait to begin your job hunt. However, if you thought the matter of your identification would cause you issues, your references were another matter entirely.

CiCi and Tía were kind enough to let you use them as personal references. You’d even mustered up the guts to approach Bucky and ask him, but even with those it didn’t seem to be enough.

A month had now passed since you started this venture and you were beginning to feel edgy and desperate again. You couldn’t rely on everyone’s generosity forever. You needed to stand on your own two feet. The sunlight begins to dim. It was getting late. Reluctantly you get up and trudge home.

Lost in a reverie while climbing up the stairs to your apartment building, you almost didn’t notice CiCi and a large man with ebony-colored skin and close cropped hair coming out of the door. 

“…ello?… Helllllo sugar!” You jump back, startled, as CiCi waves her hand in front of your face.

“Oh!… Sorry Cees, I was just thinking.” You timidly step back to allow CiCi and her beau to come out fully. Damien wiggles his fingers at you in greeting. You flick your eyes up briefly to him and and raise your hand in reply. 

Damien was a really nice person, though the bulk of him could suggest otherwise. There was no real reason for your fear or shyness around him, other than the simple fact that experience taught you to present yourself as meek and submissive to any males in your presence. 

CiCi loops her arm through Damien’s, the sleek cream colored slacks and blazer complimenting her dark skin beautifully.

“That’s alright baby, how’d the job hunt go?” She asks.

You keep your eyes trained on the ground, scuffing the concrete step with the toe of your shoe. Your silence answer enough. CiCi sighs sympathetically.

“Oh Sug. Well hey, no sweat! The right one just hasn’t popped up yet. We just have to prove to one employer that you’ve got the gumption to do the job. We’ll get there baby, don’t lose hope.” She and Damien came down to the step you stood on. She pats your shoulder in comfort.

“Yeah. Ya just gotta find what you’re good at and sell it.” Damien offers.

You smile softly, lifting your head to meet their gazes. Your nerve apparently never got the memo and you settle on staring at a point behind the two of them. “Yes. I’ll keep searching. I’m not giving up.”

CiCi cups your chin and gently pulls your attention to her. You stare into her face. 

“Remember,” She gives your face a slight shake, “this is your time. You deserve a victory. No more cowering.” Her intense stare pins you to the spot, her words seeping into you. You swallow and nod again, unable to say anything.

She smiles and releases her hold on your chin, seemingly satisfied that she got her point across. “Good. Now, why don’t you come out with us tonight? We can wait for you to change, and it might be good for you to get your mind off this job search of yours?” 

Before the invitation has completely left CiCi’s mouth you shake your head vehemently. Going out and searching for a job was one thing; heading out and exposing yourself to more people than was necessary was a different matter altogether.

“No, thank you CiCi. I’m… just too tired tonight… I’m gonna head up and turn in.” You begin your retreat to the entryway. She shrugs and allows Damien to haul her down the rest of the way to the walkway.

“Alright, just know that the invite stands any time you wanna come out!” She calls as they disappear down the street. You wave a farewell and let yourself in.

A trip up the elevator, a quick turn of the lock to your apartment, and you were in your safe haven. You let out a sigh and kick off your shoes. The day’s disappointments and fatigue already weighing you down. A quick meal, a shower, and you are ready to sleep. You flip off the bedroom lights and curl into your blankets to drift away.

•••

Colton slams the front door shut. The pictures and décor rattle on the wall. You jump, the music you’re playing faltering briefly before you resume your playing.

It was best to ignore him when he was in this state. To wait out the storm of his fury. You never knew what set him off, probably because it was a day that ended in ‘y’. You resolve to just stay out of his way.

You focus on the music you’re creating as Colton continues rioting through the apartment. 

“Would you knock it off with that god awful shit?!” 

Suddenly one of your textbooks crashes into the wall above your piano. You stop playing. Stiffly you turn to face him, keeping your hands in your lap and making sure your head is bowed low. He’s standing in the entry to the hallway, his stance menacing.

“Who is he?” He asks in a deathly quiet tone.

Your eyebrows knit, confusion stirring in your mind. You carefully look up at him. 

“Wh…who?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

His fist crashes against the wall and you jump again.

“Don’t play dumb, bitch! I saw you talking to him in the Commons!” 

You quickly scan through your recollection of the day, trying to discern who Colton could be talking about. You were talking too long because Colton aburptly growls and in two strides he’s behind you. He threads his fingers through your hair and yanks your head back to look at him, shouting obscenities in your face. You yelp and try to grapple out of his hold. It does nothing.

“He’s not anybody! He’s just a guy from class! He – he needed the notes that he missed and I gave them to him!” You cry, a hiccup escaping in the middle of your sentence.

“Please let go – he is nobody… you’re hurting me…please…” you beg. 

Done with his tirade Colton huffs and releases his hold with a small shove, propelling you forward against the piano keys. A few jarring notes sound from it. He stomps off to the bedroom. A loud bang announces the closing door.

Shuddering breaths rattle their way passed your lips. You slowly slide away from the piano and reach for your now ripped and broken textbook, dropping it a few times before you get a good grip on it. Your terror made you clumsy. You didn’t want to incite more ire from Colton.

For a half hour you creep around the apartment trying not to make a sound, but it appeared that Colton would remain locked in the bedroom. After picking up a few more things he’d knocked over in his rampage you tiptoe back to the piano and slip back under the keys. You had a recital coming up, you needed to keep practicing.

Timidly you press the keys, slowly building the music back up. The soothing tune washes over you, smoothing back down your frayed emotions. You get so caught in the music you don’t hear the creak as the bedroom door opens.

•••

You gasp for air as consciousness pulls you out of the nightmare. Sweat makes your night clothes stick awkwardly. As your brain begins to come down from its panic you feel painful tingles traveling up from your right hand. You lift it, carefully stretching out the numbness. The blood flows back to your fingers, the prickles feeling odd and a tad painful. You must have fallen asleep on it weird.

Rolling over you bury your face into your pillows, trying to fall back to sleep. Even though your mind had calmed it was now alert and racing. There would be no more sleep tonight. A sudden burst of irritation ripples through you. You scream into the pillow. These nightmares had been happening on and off since you’d escaped and found refuge here. Colton was miles away with no idea where you were, and yet he still robbed you. He robbed you of your confidence, your talents, and now your sleep. Not to mention that your search for employment was hampered because of him as well. 

You sit up and angrily kick the blankets wrapped around your legs off. If you couldn’t sleep you might as well do something productive. You get up and throw on your gray sweater. The woolen fabric had become a sort of security blanket since you got it. 

Gathering all your discarded, dirty clothes from the closet floor you make your way to the front door. Just before exiting your apartment you snag a roll of quarters from the kitchen counter.

Down in the laundry room you throw in a load and turn on the washer. As the machine begins it’s noisy whirl, you anxiously tap your fingers against the metal. Now what were you to do while you waited? 

You pivot around and lean into the machine, inspecting your surroundings. Once again your eyes zero in on the piano. You’d been avoiding it like the plague since you had first spotted it. Where once the instrument had brought you peace and comfort, the last couple years playing had brought nothing but sorrow.

Whether it was Damien’s words echoing in your head or the lack of sleep and aggravation you weren’t sure, but you hesitantly made your way to the piano. You let your fingers glide lightly across the keys. After a long moment you drag the bench out from underneath and slide onto it.

Testing the keys you play a few halting notes. You pause letting the last notes resound. You repeat the same notes, this time a little faster. The song continues, your fingers moving along the keys, and just like that your reservations fall away. You close your eyes and let the music build up to a crescendo, adding layers to your initial refrain.

All your emotional disquiet bleeds away as you continue. The musical interlude dwindles down. You stare silently down at your fingers, reveling in the momentary peace the moment brought you.

“I thought you said you couldn’t play?”

You start, hands clamping down on the piano keys with a roaring clang on the strings. You spin around to see Bucky wince at the discordant melody. Your brain reminds you to breathe again.

“God, don’t do that!” You gripe at him collapsing onto the bench. 

“Sorry… I was just surprised… are you crying??” 

You’re made aware of a cooling sensation tingling down your face. You reach up and brush your cheek, surprised when it comes away wet. You swipe at your eyes.

Bucky pushes off the dryer he’d been leaning on and comes to kneel next to the bench. You turn away slightly, using your sweater sleeve to dab at your eyes one more time before answering softly, “I’m fine.”

He remains silent, his hands resting on the edge of the bench supporting his weight. After a moment he stands up.

“Move over.” He gently taps your thigh and you instinctively scoot away. He glides onto the bench. While you make a pointed effort to not to look at him, Bucky hunches over the keys to watch your face. Silence settles in.

“So… was that just a fluke or can you really play?” 

“I never said I couldn’t play.” You snap, feeling a little too vulnerable to politely deal with his constant needling. You cringe a little, fearful he’d get angry for your outburst.

“Oh, no? It’s funny, I recall asking if you played and you saying no…” Bucky left his statement dangling as he lifted a finger to his chin in mock thoughtfulness, hardly phased by your sudden temper. It seemed he was too mild-mannered to react.

You relax a bit, give him a sidelong glance and run a finger against the keys. 

“…I just meant ‘no, I didn’t want to play’ not ’no, I can’t believe play’…” you elaborate.

“Ah. So… you lied?”

Your head swivels to glare at him. “I did not lie.” You defend yourself. 

“A lie by omission is still a lie.” He responds in a sort of sing-song voice.

You aren’t sure what possesses you. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps that it sounded a lot like what your mother would have said. Whatever it was, your comeback to his statement is to scrunch up your nose and stick your tongue out.

A bark of laughter rumbles from Bucky’s chest. It sends a tiny thrill through you. 

“Very cute, rabbit.” A lazy smile forms on his lips.

You blush and look away, back down to your clasped hands in your lap. For a few minutes the only sound is the whirring of the washing machine. 

“Do… you want to talk about it?” Bucky asks gently.

No, you didn’t. The mere thought of trying to speak about what happened made your throat swell. Shaking your head you take a deep breath, holding it in. Another beat of silence passes.

“Maybe you could play it instead?” He persuades.

You life your head to stare at him quizzically, not quite understanding his meaning. Bucky shrugs.

“It just seemed like you were playing your feelings before. Maybe you could play a song about how your feeling now?”

It wasn’t a terrible idea, you muse. You had come down here to shake off the demons clawing at your back. For the first time in a long time you had the opportunity to play for yourself instead of a man bent on destroying every piece of you. As you move to the center of the keys Bucky slides to the edge of the bench to give you space.

He patiently waits while you run through a few scales. Then the music begins.

The deep tones awake memories you’d long suppressed to survive. They play through your mind’s eye. Your mother’s illness then subsequent death. Meeting Colton and his insistence on dating. The first time he hit you. The first time he forced you.

Your fingers fly over the keys. The music almost deafening. The moment he shattered the bones in your hand. When he took you to that party…

You abruptly stop playing, clamping your hands around your head, trying to stem the flow of images racing around. A sharp keening escapes you as you curl around the keyboard. You’re vaguely aware when Bucky wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You don’t resist, too tired and distraught to care.

Bucky rubs soothing circles against your back murmuring soft reassurances. You burrow your face into the side of his neck and continue to weep.

Eventually your sobbing subsides. Your shuddering breaths even out. You breathe deeply, taking in Bucky’s scent. He smells clean, woody, calming.

Suddenly a loud buzzing sounds. The washing machine just finished its cycle. You jump, pulling back against Bucky’s arms. He releases you as you scoot away and out from the bench to retrieve your laundry. 

Embarrassment from your frantic crying blooms across your cheeks and you are glad for the distraction. As you switch the clothing over to the dryer you surreptitiously dab at your eyes, aware that Bucky might be quietly observing you. 

You move slowly, knowing that when you are done you’d have to face him again. After carefully tossing the clothes in, counting out the quarters, and closing the machine to start you reluctantly turn back towards the Bucky. As you suspected he was watching. For a moment you just stare at each other then he pats the bench inviting you back.

“Sit, you showed me your skills. Now I’ll show mine.” He turns back to the piano, fanning out imaginary coat tails as he does so.

The corners of your mouth twitch. How was he so good at diffusing tension? You return to your seat next to him.

“Do you know how to play?” You tease, watching him flex his fingers in preparation. 

Bucky gives you a look of feigned offense. “Of course! Studied with only the best.”

“Annnd the best being…”

“Hush, a master is at work.”

You cover your mouth and suppress a smile. His hands hover over the keys building the anticipation. Then with two fingers he painfully plucks out a jaunty version of Chopsticks. 

You can’t help it. A giggle bubbles up from your chest and slips passed your lips before you can clamp your hands over your mouth. Bucky closes the song with a flourish and then bows to you. Choking back your humor you clap for him, shouting ‘bravo’ a couple times. 

A sense of easiness settles between you two as you take turns playing songs for each other. The dryer whirs on while you attempt to teach Bucky proper hand placement and a portion of a song meant for beginners.

When the dryer finishes you reluctantly rise and reach for your empty basket. Bucky follows you to the dryer and holds the door open while you pile your laundry into the basket.

Once the last article of clothing made it in he bends to pick it up. You begin to protest, but he ignores you, propping the wicker carrier against his right hip. He carefully reaches out with his metal hand in offering.

“Can I walk you back to your apartment?” asks Bucky.

You sway back a little, unsure. He waits calmly while you make up your mind. You search his face a moment and make a decision. Cautiously you place your hand in his. Bucky’s metal fingers wrap around yours, gentle and cool.

Bucky pivots and lightly pulls you away to the elevator. Waiting for the elevator to reach your floor his thumb softly traces patterns on the back of your hand. It sent pleasant shivers up your arm.

All too soon the elevator opens and you arrive in front of your door. You slip your hand out of his hold and open it. Bucky hands off the basket to you. You set it just inside the doorway and turn to say goodnight to him. 

“Y/N,” Bucky takes your hand without asking this time. He focuses in on your knuckles, his thumb grazing the scarred flesh. 

You study his face waiting for him to speak again. It’s clear he’s working out what he wants to say. He opens his mouth to start, thinks better of it, and closes it again. Finally he sighs. He looks up and pierces you with those cool blue eyes.

“I’m just glad that you’re here.” His voice is soft. A sincere smile fills his face.

You blush, turning your face into the door a little to hide it.

“Me too.” You reply. You were genuinely happy to be where you were, surrounded by these good people.

He squeezes your hand once more, bids you goodnight and lopes back down the hallway. You watch his back retreat for a moment, then slip back inside your apartment and head back to bed.


	7. I Found Myself in My Melodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make progress in your job search. An upsetting encounter brings you and Bucky closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been trying to write this chapter for the past week! My sister’s wedding was right in the middle of it so I kept having to put it aside. As a result I feel like this might be a little choppy and ramble in some places. I did make this one a little longer too to make up for it being a little later than I wanted it to be. Thank you all for sticking with me! Please Enjoy!
> 
> Y/F/F/N - your fake first name

“Tía, this really isn’t necessary.” You beg.

The woman was determined to have you eat your weight in chorizo and eggs. You’d come over to make sure she was set for the day before heading out. As soon as you walked into the tiny apartment Tía Maria had strong armed you into a chair and piled up a plate.

Thanks to Tía’s efforts you were making quick progress to a healthy weight. Thank e sharp angles of your frame softening as you fill out. You appreciated her for it, though your stomach had a few complaints with how much it was forced to stretch from all the food.

You rise from the chair, ready to make a break for the door. Tía pads back into the room with a paper bag in hand.

“Alright mi hija, but you take this for later. I don’t want you going hungry out there.”

Resigned you pull the rolled bag from her hand. She feels her way up to your face. You give her your cheek and she gives it a tweak. You smile, enjoying the endearing gesture and walk out of the apartment.

While waiting on the elevator you unroll the pack and peek inside. Two foil wrapped burritos sit at the bottom. You wrinkle your nose. Tía’s food was very good, but you weren’t keen on eating cold scrambled eggs and meat.

Ding.

The elevator doors spring open. You re-roll the bag and scurry into the small compartment. The metal doors slide closed and the elevator begins its descent only to stop a floor down. As the doors reopen you can make out two familiar voices.

“Oh hey sugar, how are you doing today?” CiCi asks as she and Bucky appear into view.

Bucky’s face sports a rather harried look while he awkwardly carries a microwave in his arms. Your heart flutters at the sight of him.

You shuffle to the side as both of them make their way into the elevator.

“All I’m sayin’ is I’m about ready to chuck this damn thing out her window. This is the third time I’ve had to take this to fix it. She ‘claims’ it’s broken but every time I make the call it works fine!” Bucky finishes his rant to CiCi.

You watch in befuddlement wondering what they had been discussing. CiCi notices your quizzical stares and supplies,

“Mrs. Carlyle, no. 303. Fussy little old lady who just might break Bucky here of his good-natured spirit.” CiCi pats Bucky's shoulder sympathetically.

He puts on a martyred expression, letting his head droop a little. You raise your hand to cover the smile spreading across your face.

"I'm sorry. That is tragic." You giggle through your fingers.

Bucky sighs. He lifts his head. His eyes catch onto the bag hanging from your hand. He nods to it.

"Whatcha got there?" You track his gaze, looking down at your hands.

"Oh! Tía Maria insisted I take some burritos with me." You explain.

Immediately, Bucky perks up and leans forward.

"Really?! Tía's burritos are the best!" Excitement practically comes off him in waves.

"Would... you like one?" You hold up the bag in offering.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm very sure. Tía stuffed me so full already I won't be able to eat anymore." You unravel the little sack and reach in. Grabbing hold of one of the wrapped burritos you pull it up. You stick your hand out toward him.

Bucky shifts the microwave in his grasp.

“Actually, would you mind just opening it and sticking it in my mouth?” He deadpans.

You blink. “You…want me to feed you?” You ask incredulously.

“Well… as you can see I’ve kind of got my hands full. Pleeeease?” Bucky pleads a little pathetically.

You feel your cheeks heat. Stuffing the paper bag carefully under your left arm you unwrap the burrito. He opens his mouth wide as you raise it for him. He takes a hearty bite and moans happily. You wait patiently while he chews, then offer him another bite.

The elevator dips and the doors ding open. You have reached the first floor. Bucky widens his mouth, taking another giant bite, but this time he pulls against your hand for the burrito. You release it. He mumbles an incoherent thank you around his food, winking at you. You shyly wave him away as he ambles away out of the space.

Watching him leave you can feel CiCi’s gaze on you. You glance over to her. When you meet her eyes she folds her arms over her chest and cocks an eyebrow.

“I saw that.”

“What?” You feign ignorance, not wanting to examine what exactly had started between you two.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me. You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

You shrug, “We got to know each other a little last night. It’s just a friendship.”

“Oh, I know about last night. It’s been all he can talk about this morning.” CiCi answers back.

Your face flames a bright, cherry red and you flee the elevator, CiCi hot on your tail. As you walk out the entryway you spin back to CiCi.

“What exactly did he tell you about last night?” It wasn’t as though you had told him not to talk about last night, but you were leery of what details he gave away. It was a pretty stellar meltdown you had had.

CiCi examines you a moment then replies, “Just that you can play that piano in there beautifully.”

She tilts her head towards the building. You relax a little. If Bucky had told her about your fantastic waterworks display CiCi at least was gonna keep it to herself. CiCi digs into her work overalls and pulls out a slightly wrinkled bit of paper.

“Here,” She says as she slides it into your hand. “I wrote down the names of some bars and other places that have live piano music. It might be worth the shot. Don’t take no for an answer!”

Cici cuffs your chin with her index finger and then heads off down the street. You unfold the paper and read some of the names.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try. I’ve got nothing left to lose.

You gulp a big breath and start walking into your day.

•••

The sun had just gone down and the city’s night life began to come alive. You determined to hit the bars and little clubs CiCi had suggested just as they opened. That had left you the day to roam, following up on applications and making inquiries for hiring opportunities.

Now you stand in front of a place called The Grandstand. The little bar is tucked in between two brownstones, inconspicuous save for the awning with its name covering the entrance. A flickering, neon sign proclaiming they were open sits in the front window.

Butterflies burst to life in the pit of your stomach. Maybe you should just turn back, after all there had to be something else you could do. This anxiety was wreaking havoc with your system. You shake your head a little, almost in an effort to reset your line of thinking. No, your friends were right. It would be best to use what talents you had to find some gainful employment.

Rolling your shoulders, you straighten your spine. Before you can talk yourself out of it you yank on the door handle and step inside. The little bar is dimly lit. Old black and white photos lined the walls, 40’s memorabilia tacked up in between. Booths line the wall opposite the bar, with small tables set in the middle of it all. Towards the far back wall stands a small stage with band set up, a baby grand piano wedged against the wall. It all combined to give the place a cozy, retro feel, albeit a little cramped.

Though the place had just opened it was fairly populated with patrons. A few waitresses milled  
Between the tables and bar, serving their customers. A young man with unkempt blonde hair stocked and cleaned the bar, periodically pausing to serve drinks. There seemed to be something off with the environment, though you couldn’t really pinpoint it yet.

You timidly meander through the tables towards the man. Once you reach the counter you attempt to get his attention.

“Umm… e-excuse me…” your voice trails off into a whisper, your confidence flagging.

The man continues working, oblivious to your efforts at conversation. You try again, imbuing more strength into your words.

“Excuse me?”

The man pauses, turning a questioning glance behind him. He realizes you’re speaking to him and turns around fully.

“I’m sorry ma’am, can I help you?” He asks.

You nod.

“Yes, I was hoping I could speak to a manager or owner if they’re around?” You force yourself to stay still instead of fidgeting under his scrutiny.

His stare turns wary, unsure if you’re there to complain or cause trouble. He shrugs after a moment and gestures towards the stage.

“The manager is over there.” He returns to his work.

Your eyes follow where he directed. There standing just against the stage stood a rather frazzled looking woman with medium brown hair. She appeared to be having a heated conversation on the phone.

Moving closer, you stand against one of the tables near the stage waiting for her to finish with her call. You tried not to eavesdrop, you really did, but some things you just can’t help hearing.

“I swear to God, Michael! This is the third time you’ve left us without a pianist in two weeks! I know Marcus puts up with this and doesn’t care, but this is complete bullshit! How can we be a piano bar without someone to play the music?!” The woman hisses into the receiver.

That was when it dawned on you. The thing that seemed off about the environment. There was complete silence underneath the murmured conversations of the customers. No music. You suppose you should have figured that out when you noticed the stage.

The woman listens to someone on the other end before she scoffs and hangs up. She breathes out a suppressed scream and runs her fingers through her hair.

“P-pardon me.” You speak softly, stepping over to her.

She stiffens a moment before she straightens and swings around, pasting a smile to her face.

“Oh hello! How may I help you?” She responds politely.

You take a breath and return her smile, hoping it doesn’t look too frightened.

“Yes… I, uh, was hoping to see if you were hiring? It sounded like you could use a piano player, I –“

The woman’s demeanor shifts; it wasn’t unkind, just more firm.

“I’m sorry, but we aren’t currently hiring for any positions, and unfortunately our owner, Marcus, doesn’t like for patrons to play the instruments.” She smiles apologetically and walks away, leaving you a little flustered.

You stand alone, feeling slightly embarrassed and at a loss for what to do. You look up and watch the other customers. A few who had come in the same time you had were already leaving, clearly unimpressed with the experience. You turn back to the stage pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Taking a surreptitious glance for the manager and other employees you’re relieved to find no one paying you any heed. CiCi’s words flit across your mind.

Don’t take no for an answer.

Quietly you move behind the piano taking a seat on the bench. In your mind you sift through your mental catalog for a good jazz piece you could remember.

You settle on a piece that starts slow and builds to a fun, uptempo beat. Gently plucking at the keys you play. Just like the night before the music swept you up again. This time, however, your heart felt lighter. Happier. You add a little more flare to the piece, playing around with the melody.

As you close the song you’re startled by a smattering of clapping from the patrons around the bar. You’d forgotten you were playing to anybody. You look up and see the manager gazing in your direction; her expression unreadable. You stand as she approaches you, steeling your nerves for a confrontation.

The woman stops just short of the stage, resting her hand upon the piano. She looks away to the piano and then considers you again. She sighs.

“Look, I can’t offer you a position. Marcus has the last say when it comes to the musicians, so you’ll have to audition for him, but…” she sucks in a breath, holding it for a moment. She blows it out.

“Would you mind playing for us the rest of the evening, please? I have enough of an emergency fund to pay you for that. I’m desperate for a player.”

Your heart leapt. Nodding enthusiastically you begin to slide back under the piano. The manager gives you a relieved smile and goes back to work.

By closing time your fingers felt sore, unused to all the constant playing. You step down from the stage and head over to the bar. The manager sits upon a stool, looking over some paperwork as you approach. She looks up to you. Setting the papers down she swivels away and reaches out for your hand.

“Thank you got your help tonight, my name is Maggie.”

You shake her hand replying with, “I’m…Y/F/F/N.”

You’d been so content and happy you’d almost forgotten to use your borrowed name. Maggie paid you for the evening and the two of you made arrangements for you to come again tomorrow night to meet with Marcus.

Back out on the street you hug your coat closer to you, breathing the cool fall air. Your blood hums through your veins and you feel like you could float away from the elation running through you.

The bus ride back to your street was almost unbearably long. You were itching to keep practicing to prepare for your meeting tomorrow. The bus pulled up to the curb and your feet flew out and down to your apartment building.

Once inside the building you turn the corner into the laundry room. You halt. Where the piano had stood was now just empty space. Apparently someone had finally come to claim the instrument.

Deflated you exit the room and make your way up to your apartment. As you enter the elevator a woman pushes passed you into the space. You ignore her and her rudeness, pressing the number three button next to the lit up four.

You reach your floor and get out, never once glancing at the rude woman. Trudging into your apartment, you flip on the switch and freeze.

There resting to the right of the living room window was the piano. You cautiously walk over. You examine it, running your fingers across the keys. A part of you was a little alarmed someone had been into your apartment, but the other part of you knew there would be only one person who knew what that piano meant to you and had the means of getting it into your place.

You spin on your heel and head back out the door. Running back to the elevator you go up another floor. As the elevator doors slide open you think you see a shadow dart around a corner. You hesitate, uncertain that you should continue.

Don’t be silly. No one is looking for you here. It must have just been a trick of the light.

You try to shrug it off and make your way to Bucky’s door. Sudden nerves burst into butterflies in your stomach as you knock on the wood. The door swings open. The moment Bucky comes into view your nerves kick into overdrive. As soon as he’s standing in the doorway you launch yourself at him, hugging him tightly.

“Whoa! I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I gotta find out so I can do it again.” He chuckles as he returns the hug.

Your cheeks flame but you smile. Your hands fidget a little as you step back out of the embrace.

“You know what you did. Thank you.” You say shyly

Bucky smirks a little and runs his metal fingers through his hair. His ears pink once again

You open your mouth to say more when suddenly a streak of blonde passes between you two. Bucky stumbles back stunned as a small blonde woman strikes him across the face.

“I cannot believe you! You don’t return any of my calls then I find out you’re cheating on me with this little slut!” She whirls around to you.

You’d frozen in shock to your spot until she levels you with her glare. If looks could kill you were certain you would have dropped dead from the venom injected in her gaze. You backtrack towards the other end of the hallway as she prowls over to you. Certain she’s about to strike you as well you raise your arms to defend yourself.

You were sure you’d seen this girl before, back in the laundry room the day you’d assisted Bucky. What was her name? Rebecca?

Just as your back hits the hallway wall you see Bucky lunge for the woman. He wraps his flesh hand around her wrist and yanks her back. She stumbles back as Bucky maneuvers between you and her. Rebecca rights herself and fumes, a wide – eyed, disbelieving expression on her face.

“I cannot believe you’re defending her!”

“Dammit Rebecca, lay off! I have told you, we are not together. I’m sorry if you’re feelings are hurt but you knew from the start that this wasn’t anything!” Bucky shouts over her.

You can hear a few doors click open down the hall, some of the other tenants curious about the commotion. Bucky swears.

“Please Rebecca, go. You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

She scoffs, “ I’m not the one who should be embarrassed! You’re the one who’s been stringing me along! And I am not leaving until you talk to me!”

With that Rebecca stomps into Bucky’s apartment. He sighs heavily, turning around to face you.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently, his metal hand reaching up to wrap a loose strand of your hair around his index finger.

You nod, a little shaken, but you’d be lying if you said you’d never experienced that kind of jealous rage directed at you.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Ar-are you gonna be okay?” You weakly gesture to his red, swollen cheek.

He chuckles bitterly.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, doll. Unfortunately, I’ve gotten myself into these situations before. It doesn’t happen often but…” he sighs again before he looks up into your face. He shakes his head, his metal thumb rubbing softly against your cheekbone.

He quickly ducks his head and plants a chaste kiss to your temple and releases you face and hair.

“Have a good night, Y/N.” Bucky says softly.

He walks to his door and pauses.

“And you’re welcome.” With that he goes into his apartment and closes the door.

You stand there a little numb and flustered. As the other doors begin to close you rush with your head down back to the elevator.

•••

After retreating back into your apartment, you ate and showered. The excitement of Rebecca’s outburst gone for the most part. Though occasionally you could hear a raised voice and things smashing around above your place.

A twinge of guilt twists in your gut.

This must have been what he meant by “B-Day”…

You were fairly confident it had been you who’d let Rebecca into the building when you rushed home. Now she was in his place and he couldn’t even retreat to his backup apartment to hide from her craziness.

Another crash sounds followed by a dull thud. You wince, beginning to worry about Bucky. You wanted to go and check on him but you feared you’d only make it worse. You weren’t afraid of Rebecca; you’d been around delusional women like her enough these past couple years to feel sorry for them rather than threatened. They always thought more of a relationship than what was really there. They hated you for your relationship with Colton. If they only knew how much you wanted to be out; what was really lurking behind the closed doors…

You shake off the depressing thoughts. You didn’t want to dwell on that stuff anymore. You walk out to the living room and seat yourself at the piano. Testing the keys you run through some scales and practice pieces.

You continue practicing some of the songs you’d performed that night, trying to smooth the parts you’d struggled with playing. Growing bored with those songs you decide to play something else. Thinking through the pieces you used to play for your mother, you recall one that she’d been very fond of. It was one you hadn’t been able to play since her death, but given all you’d been through you were craving it’s calming, sweet melody.

Sitting up straight you place your fingers back on the keys and begin a slow rendition of “Dream a Little Dream of Me”.

It was a little rough but your fingers recalled the movements well enough. You let the final notes fade out. Out on the fire escape a faint clapping sounds. You start, leaning over to peer out the window. From that angle you can see a pair of feet resting on the stairs a floor up. Rising you cross over to the window and unlatch it. Sliding it up you poke your head out and look up. There Bucky sits, reclining against the brick of the building watching you with a sheepish grin. You cock your head to the side.

“What are you doing our here? Did you get Rebecca to leave?” You inquire.

Bucky lets out a huffed laugh.

“I wish it’d been that simple. This is self- imposed exile.” Another crash sounds from inside his space. He grimaces.

You guess with all your playing you’d drowned out the chaos that Rebecca was still creating.

“She’s refusing to leave. I guess her thinking is if she stays long enough I’ll change my mind and be with her… now she’s barricaded herself in the bedroom. So here I am. Hiding out until she gets tired of waiting.”

At that moment a chilled wind blows through, you shiver in your thin sleep shirt. You glance up at Bucky again chewing on your bottom lip. He looks down on the street, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“That song was familiar. What’s it called?” He muses

“Dream a Little Dream of Me.” You offer in reply.

He hums, resting his head back onto the brick façade.

“Any chance I could persuade you to play it again for me?” He looks down on you with his best puppy dog eyes.

Before now being asked to play made your skin crawl. It was another way he could humiliate and use you. Bucky, though, with all his exuberance and sweetness made you feel like your mother had. Special and important. You give a faint smile and wave him down, “Come on.”

You step back away from the window and hear the creak of the fire escape. You watch impressed as Bucky glides in, graceful as a cat, and plops down onto the recliner still stationed next to the window. He groans appreciatively, stretching against the seat as you close the window with a snap.

“This really wasn’t a ploy to get inside your apartment. I really did just want to hear you play that song again.” His words contradict his actions as he nestles into the recliner cushions.

You bite your bottom lip.

“It’s probably my fault that you had to sit out there anyway. I… think I may have let her in when I came home tonight.” You admit to him.

Bucky contemplates this a moment then shakes his head.

“No, this is really my fault. Cees has warned me and I knew better… perhaps it’s just what I deserve.” The last part he says so quietly you don’t think he meant for you to hear it.

You puzzle over that. You couldn’t imagine why a guy as nice and kind as Bucky would think he deserved a psychotic woman destroying his apartment and assaulting his person. However, you didn’t feel you had a right to pry. If he was going to allow you to hold onto your secrets, you could let him do the same. You change the subject.

“Yes well, how can my audience enjoy this masterpiece if they are freezing to death?” You inquire dramatically.

Bucky snorts and you smile wide. You liked being able to joke and tease with someone again. It helped you feel normal and sane. Like you never were the person you’d been in that dark place just a little over a month ago.

You take your seat on the piano bench again and play for him. When you finished Bucky claps and cheers while you bow and giggle. You retell your day and how you might have possibly found a job. His excitement over the news touches you. All Colton ever did was sneer and belittle you whenever you told him good things that happened in your day. As though your little successes meant nothing.

You become a little somber. You draw your hands back into your lap. Bucky notices and leans forward, trying to catch your eye.

“Hey, hey… Where’d you go, rabbit? Why’d you start to hole up on me?” He reaches his hand out to you but stops just short of touching you.

His beautiful, blue eyes are full of concern. You meet his gaze, letting the cool softness of it wash over you like a balm.

You exhale slowly and offer a weary smile.

“I’m fine,” you yawn wide. “Oh, sorry, I guess I’m just exhausted from the day.”

It wasn’t a total lie, you were feeling the strain of the long hours walking around the city.

“Ah,” Bucky nods in understanding, reclining back into the chair. “It is pretty late. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

Dipping your head in agreement you slide off the bench, walking towards the bedroom door. You pause, turning back to look at Bucky.

“What are you gonna do for the night?” You ask.

Bucky gestures to himself and the chair. “You’re looking at it.”

You give him a doubtful look, “Bucky… I’ve been in that chair and it is not comfortable enough to even sit in for long.”

He waves you off, remaining nonchalant.

“It’ll be okay Y/N, go sleep.”

Hesitating for a second, you concede and walk into the bedroom. You close the door with a quiet, little snick. In your isolation you pace between the bed and doorway. You turn again and face the room’s little window, turning an idea over in your mind.

It probably wasn’t a very smart idea, inviting a man to share a sleeping space with you. It usually led to you being forced to do things you’d rather forget. You didn’t have to do this; you could just let him sleep out there on that old recliner.

Except that you couldn’t stop thinking about what he said. The self – deprecation laced in his voice. It had made your heart ache for him. He was too gentle and friendly to feel he deserved to be treated like dirt.

You roll back your shoulders, resolved. Walking towards the bed you lean down and snatch up your sweater, throwing it on over your head. You crawl onto the mattress and begin arranging the pillows down the middle, creating a small barrier. Once you’re done you curl up on the side closest to the outer wall, pulling the covers tightly around you. All settled you call out for Bucky.

The door creaks open but you don’t look over. It’s silent for a long moment.

“What… are you doing?” Bucky asks, skeptical.

You glance over your shoulder at him, then nod you head to the empty side of the bed.

“I’m sharing.” You said matter-of-factly.

You lay back down, unable to maintain eye contact for fear of losing your nerve. Already your stomach was twisting in knots, afraid you might be misplacing your trust. You push the uncertainty down. While you have your internal fight with yourself, you feel the mattress dip as Bucky carefully sits on it.

“You do realize that… these pillows would do nothing if I really wanted to try something, right?”

You throw your head back to eye him warily, his comment making your heart jump in fear a little.

“Well then, you can go back to the recliner if you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” You tried to keep it light but you thought you heard a slight waver in your voice.

Bucky throws his hands up, bowing his head like a little schoolboy scolded.

“No, no, no! I’ll be on my best behavior I promise. Cross my heart, doll.” He makes the gesture over his chest.

You stifle a giggle into the covers and settle back in, facing the wall. Bucky rustles around a bit more to get comfortable then all is still. After a minute or two you hear him begin to hum lightly the melody of your mother’s song. Your muscles ease and soon sleep pulls you under as the last lyric flits through your mind.

Dream a little dream of me…


	8. You're Coming Like Nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have an unpleasant encounter with your new boss. Your confidence starts to grow and you begin to reflect on your feelings for Bucky.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> “Nightfall” - Sawyer
> 
> “Good To You” - Marianas Trench

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS ARE SO INCREDIBLY AMAZING. Thank you so much for your patience! I don’t know why but this one was so hard to write even though I knew what I wanted to happen. The next installation will not take as long, I promise. Now please enjoy!

A warm sensation wakes you from a deep slumber. You sense the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window heating your back. It’s a rather pleasant sensation. You contentedly snuggle closer to the pillow you wrapped your arms around, attempting to sleep a little longer. 

 

As you move you feel a heavy pressure against your hip. The heaviness shifts slightly up to your waist. You freeze, heart beginning to race rapidly. Your first instinct to lie still and pretend you hadn’t awoken yet. Your brain races a mile a minute trying to piece together what was happening. 

 

The conflict with Rebecca, Bucky hiding out on the fire escape, and you inviting him in replay through your mind’s eye. You breathe a shaky breath into the pillow pressed against your face, willing yourself to relax. You’d invited him to share the bed last night.

 

It’s okay. Your safe. No one is going to hurt you. 

 

While your brain could reason, our heart rails and the flight urge is kicking in. You crack an eye open and sneak a peek at Bucky. 

 

Bucky’s lax face lay inches from yours. His face is calm and serene. You study the curve of his cheekbone and the stubble sprouting along his cheek and jaw. His lips part slightly as he breathes in deeply, fast asleep. You move your eyes quickly back up his face to his eyes. The long, dark lashes rest gently against his skin, his eyes darting underneath his eyelids rapidly. He must be dreaming, you think. 

 

He is indeed very handsome. You can understand why women would want so badly to be with him. His boyish charm in slumber calms the rapid beating of your heart, but you feel your cheeks flare with heat. It’d been a very long time since you’d felt drawn to a man. Since you’d felt the desire to be near one. 

 

You shift carefully onto your back and wiggle your way towards the wall, trying not to wake Bucky. His hand trails along your stomach as you slide all the way out and crouch, leaning into the wall for balance. You watch him again for a moment, but he doesn’t stir. You proceed to crawl to the bottom of the bed and tiptoe out of the room. 

 

Creeping out into the living room you quietly go to the kitchen and pour yourself a bowl of cereal. You lean against the counter and eat in silence for a few minutes before you hear the bedroom door click open. You listen to Bucky’s footsteps as he lazily shuffles into the kitchen. 

 

“Good morning.” He mumbles sleepily, running his hands over his face. 

 

Bucky shakes his head a little, trying to clear it and wake more. He leans against the counter next to you and peers into your bowl. 

 

“Mmm, that looks good.” He says as his hand darts forward and he plucks a strawberry from among the flakes. Bucky plops it into his mouth with a self-satisfied grin.

 

“Hey!” You ward him off with your spoon and pretend to be upset, but your smile gives you away. 

 

“Get your own food, you heathen.” You admonish, pointing to the cabinet that housed the cups and bowls. 

 

He chuckles and commences on helping himself. You both eat in the easy silence. It’s peaceful and comfortable. When you’re finished Bucky takes the bowl from your hands and washes the dishes. You watch him in wonder. He was so unlike most men you’d encountered. It was getting harder to deny the warm feelings he stirs in you, but you were still too frightened and raw to open that door. 

 

“Well,” he sighs as he towels off his hands. “Shall we go see what damage has been done to my apartment?” 

 

•••

 

After you change into some sweatpants and a T-shirt you crawl out onto the fire escape to go up one floor. 

 

Bucky’s apartment is definitely a mess, though nothing looks too damaged. Just battered and dinged from the mishandling. You suppose she tried to reign it in just in case Bucky did decide he wanted to be with her. 

 

He offers you a hand as you crawl in through the window, his fingers trailing against your skin as he lets go. You shiver a little at the contact. Bucky surveys the room around him, tugging his hair a little. 

 

“I’m… gonna go change before I tackle this mess.” Bucky grumbles. 

 

You carefully step around the chaos as he makes his way into the bedroom, you hear a muttered curse as he peers inside and shuts the door. You begin picking up fallen books and carefully stacking them on the coffee table. After clearing a small section of floor, you realize there’s glass from a broken picture frame sprinkled across it. Walking carefully around it you search for a broom and dustpan. 

Once you locate them in the coat closet you return and sweep the glass into a little pile. All traces of glass fragments gone you look to the right and find the frame the glass used to belong to. A picture is slightly bent underneath it. You gently lift the frame and pull out the photo. 

 

A group of men in army camouflage smile broadly at the camera. Your eyes quickly find Bucky, his beaming face instantly recognizable. He has his arm thrown around another man, his smile a little more bashful than Bucky’s. Though his hair is cut a little shorter you realize it’s the man who had been pounding on your door looking for Bucky. You couldn’t quite recall his name. Something with an ‘S’… Stan… or Sam maybe? 

 

Just then Bucky’s bedroom door swings open and he ambles out, looking very good in a tight black t-shirt and washed out jeans. 

 

“Whatcha got there?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder. 

 

You hold up the picture. 

 

“The frame is broken. I swept up the glass. Are these your army friends?” You raise up the picture, handing it to him as he reaches for it. 

 

He studies it a moment, seemingly lost in thought. He blinks and takes a deep breath, looking down at you. 

 

“Ah, yeah. Yeah, they were. Good guys.” His answer is short and you sense he doesn’t really want to talk about it. You suppress the other questions about the blonde-haired man.

 

Bucky stuffs the photo into his back pocket. 

 

“Well, I better get started.” He leans over and picks up the overturned sofa chair. 

 

You resume picking up loose papers and books. You glance at him and he smiles sweetly. You return it, feeling the warmth spreading from your chest again. You soon get lost in the task at hand, working around each other to bring order back to Bucky’s apartment. 

 

••• 

 

At six o’ clock in the evening, just an hour before sunset, you stand anxiously in front of The Grandstand. You were going to meet with Marcus tonight to audition. Luckily Maggie said she would be there too, other wise you didn’t think you’d be able to go through with it. Your nerves already made you shake, feeling very unsteady. 

 

You knock on the glass and wait. Soon, Maggie unbolts the door and greets you. 

 

“Hello Y/F/F/N! It’s good to see you again. Come on in and we’ll introduce you to Marcus.” Maggie sweeps you in and locks the door behind you. 

 

You stand awkwardly to the side as she walks passed you towards the stage. Her gait is strong and confident. You try to mimic it as you follow, hoping to appear like you weren’t about to faint. 

 

As you approach you notice a man lounging in one of the table chairs, his legs stretched out in front of him. His dress suggests that he liked to look important, though right now he looks a little unkempt. Black suit pants, a plain white dress shirt rumpled and unbuttoned at the top. An undone tie hangs around his neck. The man is deeply engrossed with his cell phone when the two of you reach him. Maggie clears throat. 

 

“Marcus, this is Y/F/F/N. She’s here to audition for a pianist position” Maggie holds her hand out in front of you as though to present you. 

 

Marcus doesn’t say anything, just continues to tap away at his phone. Maggie’s smile falters, a hint of annoyance replacing it.

 

“Marcus!” She hisses. 

 

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you.” Marcus stands and puts out a hand to shake. You cautiously take it. 

 

“Hey, look. I’m sorry Maggie had you come out, but we aren’t looking for a new pianist right now.” Marcus explains, not once looking up from his phone. 

 

Maggie is now fuming and you feel your face flush. Was this Marcus really not even going to give you a chance? Were you really going to be out looking for a job again? 

 

“Michael is completely unreliable, Marc. I need someone who is good who will be here on time. All the time.” Maggie’s voice is even, though a slight quiver hints to the anger boiling underneath. 

 

“Yeah, I know, and that’s why Michael and I are having a chat tonight about it.” Marcus says with a dismissal 

 

“Look just let her – “ Maggie starts again but Marcus interrupts. 

 

“I don’t need to, it’s my club and I’ll decide who I want performing here.” He finally glances up to give Maggie a warning look. 

 

Maggie clamps her lips tightly until they’re just a thin line on her face. Satisfied, Marcus grabs his suit coat off the chair he’d been sitting in and turns to go. He pauses mid turn and peers over to you, taking you in. You feel pinned by his stare. All you want to do is run and hide. 

 

“Mm, she is pretty though. You can hire her on as wait staff. We can make room there for her.” Marcus remarks and with that he leaves. 

 

You feel sick, hating very much that you were just objectified and dismissed without much thought. Your eyes dart over to Maggie, who very much looks like she would really love to punch something. She sucks in a breath and holds it. After a moment she releases it and heads to the bar, waving at you to follow. 

 

••• 

 

That night was your first as a waitress/hostess at The Grandstand. While it hadn’t been what you planned you were glad you at least had a job now. It turned out too that Maggie hadn’t just accepted Marcus’s edict that you be regelated to just waiting tables. The first night Michael hadn’t shown for work she had you corralled behind the piano and playing. 

 

“If Marcus isn’t going to listen to reason, then I’ll just have to go off book with it.” Maggie mumbled. 

 

So you waited tables the nights Michael showed and played the nights he didn’t. The arrangement suited you just fine. Marcus hardly ever appeared at the club, much to your relief. Your first encounter had left a bad taste in your mouth and you were happy to give him a wide berth. 

 

Your first paycheck was small, but it was exhilarating to have money that you earned again. CiCi had demanded a tiny shopping spree for a new outfit. You hesitated to spend any of the money, but with very little coaxing she convinced you to go. 

 

Much like your first encounter, CiCi heaps a giant pile into your arms and ushers you into a dressing room. Another long series of trying on item after item, and you put on a velvet, burgundy quarter-sleeved dress. You run your hands over the surface, relishing the soft feel. Stepping out you blush as CiCi whistles and has you twirl for her. 

 

“Mm, honey, that’s the one.” CiCi coos clapping her hands together in success. 

 

“You think?” You ask looking down at yourself. You thought it might be a little too short for the cold season, but with a pair of tights might do the job to keep you warm. 

 

“Yes. You’re as pretty as a picture.” She steers you in front to the full length mirror. 

 

Suddenly you felt transformed. Gone was the wild, frightened girl. Your sunken cheeks are full and rosy. The dress hugs curves instead of bone. You look healthy, if not completely healed inside. You face CiCi, wearing a wide smile. 

 

“I’m gonna get it.” You beam.

 

CiCi returns your smile. As you change back into your street clothes you hear CiCi throw something over the top of the changing curtain. 

 

“Why don’t you indulge in some of these as well?” She says. 

 

You turn and glance up and instantly your face starts to burn. You finish changing and step out. 

 

“Cees, I do not need lingerie.” You mumble as you hold out the bra and panty set. 

 

“Sure you do, every girls needs something cute to go underneath.” CiCi comments as she rifles through more lingerie on the wall. 

 

You shake your head, “No one is ever going to see it so what’s the point in buying it?” You say a little defensively. 

 

CiCi pauses and gives you a meaningful stare. “Oh no? There isn’t a soul you’d mind seeing you wrapped up in silk and lace?” 

 

It was true that Bucky and you had been spending a lot of time together. After that first night whenever you’d practice He would slowly come down the fire escape until he was back in the recliner, listening to you play. He would often fall asleep there now, lulled to slumber by your melodies. 

 

One evening after you realized he’d fallen asleep you stopped playing. You slid off the bench and stooped in front of him, contemplating whether you should wake him or not. You admired his face again, taking in your fill. The hair framing his face had fallen across his left eye. You reached up and gently smooth the hair back behind his ear. His face unconsciously leans into your touch.

 

“Bucky,” you spoke softly, attempting to gently wake him. “Bucky, you should go to bed." 

 

He breathed in deeply and blinked drowsily a couple times. You repeat yourself and he got up, stumbling towards the bedroom. 

 

"Bucky - " You start to call to him, but he'd gone around the corner into the room. 

 

You followed him, watching as he flopped down onto the bed on the side he slept on before. When you had told him to go to bed you hadn't meant yours. His breathing deepened again as he fell deeper into sleep. You sighed and wrestled some of the pillows from underneath him, forming your makeshift barrier like before. You got ready for bed and crawled in, listening to his soft snores as you fell asleep. 

 

After that, every now and then, you'd share your bed with Bucky. You were always cautious and made certain there was space between you, but you knew you were finding comfort in his presence. In his closeness. The nightmares lessened and you allowed yourself to sleep deeply, gaining slow confidence that nothing would hurt you as long as he was there. You even allowed yourself to think that he might like being in your company at night. You hadn't even considered that things between you two could deepen and become more intimate as CiCi suggested. 

 

You flush and look away, that idea awakening new exciting and terrifying thoughts inside you. You’re just getting used to the idea of feeling something for Bucky. You didn’t want to entertain thoughts that someday you’d be naked in front of him. It was all a little… too much. For now. 

 

You open your mouth to refute but CiCi waves you off. 

 

"Look, that aside I wasn't talking about getting it for anyone to see. This is about how you feel. So what if no one sees it. We're not here to just please someone. When you're wearing this," She holds up a pretty light pink, lace bralette, "It's about feeling sexy and empowered. When you wear things that make you feel good, it reflects outward. It gives you power." 

 

You contemplate her words a moment. She did make a point, but you didn't really think you were ready to wear something like that again. Not yet, even if it was for yourself. You shake your head.

 

"I'm good for now CiCi, thank you though." You say. 

 

CiCi sighs, putting the bralette back and throwing her hands up in the air. "Suit yourself then. But mark my words, you'd be unstoppable in the right bra and panty!" 

 

••• 

 

Later that night you knocked on Tia Maria's door. This had been something you'd planned since you'd gotten your new job. You wait patiently as you hear Tia shuffle up to the door. After a moment of scuffling the door squeaks open and Tia stands in the doorway. 

 

"Hi Tia," You greet as soon as you see the little old woman. She gives you a toothy smile and holds open her arms to you. 

 

"Ay, mija! Buenos noches." 

 

You stoop to hug her and she kisses your cheeks, beaming unseeing up into your face. She pulls you into her apartment, chittering away about making you some food. You pull against her until she stops and turns to you. 

 

"I'm good on food Tia, thank you. But I did want to ask you for your help. Can you teach me how to cook?" 

 

Tia claps her hands together and talks excitedly in Spanish, hauling you the rest of the way into the kitchen. A simple question and cooking class was in session.


	9. Yes, I Know I'm a Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader finds a way to thank everyone for their generosity. Bucky and the reader become more intimate. The reader gets a glimpse of Bucky’s issues.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> “Cielito Lindo” - Marta Gómez
> 
> “Let Me Love You” - Gavin Mikhail
> 
> “I Know I’m a Wolf” - Young Heretics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry it took so long to update this. I’ve been trying to write this for about a week and a half but I hit major block in the beginning of it. I pushed myself to write it, so the beginning is complete shit. I apologize. The good news is I think I broke through the block because the second half came really easy. The last thing is this fic has been really sweet and fluffy up to this point. I am giving you a warning now that it’s about to get really angsty. You gotta go through some hard times to get to the good stuff, right? It can’t all be smooth sailing! So please enjoy the smut and buckle in for the angst. I love you all!

Learning to cook had been no easy feat, and Tía Maria was a hard task master. She wasn’t unkind, just exacting and firm. 

You had thought certain things you just couldn’t mess up. How wrong you were. There was a science to it. How much seasoning or spice to put in. If you didn’t watch the tortillas closely you would burn them, and no matter how much you wanted to you did not stir the Spanish rice while it cooked. Period. 

Tamales had been a beast all on their own, and had been an all day affair. Because you couldn’t just make a little batch of tamales, as Tía explained. You needed to use all of the ingredients that you purchased. Nothing went to waste. 

Two weeks into your immersion into Mexican style cooking you’d felt confident enough to execute your plan. With Tía Maria’s blessing you’d gone out in search of CiCi and Bucky. 

“What’s going on at Tía’s on Thursday?” CiCi asked while she taped her wig into place. This one was a vibrant aqua blue. 

You’d found her getting ready in her bathroom after you’d knocked and she called for you to come in. She was getting ready for a date with Damien. 

“It’s a surprise. Will you come? You can invite Damien too.” You almost begged. Your body hummed with excitement you could barely contain. 

“Alright, alright. Don’t burst now, baby. We’ll be there.” She laughed as you bounced a little from your perch on her bed. 

“Great!” You bounded up and began heading out the door. 

“You invitin’ Bucky too?” CiCi called after. 

You turned and stuck your tongue out before bolting our the door, CiCi’s laughter trailing after you. 

••• 

The week crawled by slowly and you thought you'd die from the anticipation. You'd taken the day off and spent the better part of the morning shopping with Tía Maria, then took the afternoon preparing. When you'd gone back to your apartment to get ready there had been a small paper bag waiting. A boutique name printed on the side. You peered inside it and felt a flush creep up your neck. CiCi. 

Now you stood nervously in your bathroom getting ready. You’d pinned your hair half up, soft curls cascading down to your shoulders. You run your hands over the dress fabric against your stomach, trying to calm the butterflies. A knock sounds outside in the living room. 

Flipping off the bathroom light you walk out of the room just as Bucky glides in from the escape window. He straightens, smoothing down his dark button up shirt just as his eyes settle on you. Bucky raises his eyebrows in surprise and whistles. 

"Wow. Y/N, you look great!" He exclaims, stepping closer and taking a walk around you. 

You blush, "You think so?" You ask uncertainly. 

He comes back around to face you, a serious but soft expression adorning his features. "You are a knock out. " 

A shiver tingles down your spine. You avert your gaze, your embarrassment getting the better of you. You mumble a thank you. He chuckles quietly and offers you a crooked arm. 

"Well, shall we get to your mysterious party?" Bucky winks, giving you a cheeky grin. 

You return his smile. Taking his arm, you allow him to lead you out to Tía's apartment. Bucky opens the door and ushers you in. Even though you had helped to set up, the place took your breath away. Strings of starlights hung crisscross along the ceiling of the living room, right above a beautifully set table. CiCi and Damien step out of the kitchen carrying a couple bowls. 

"Well, about time you two joined us! Now that you're here we can start this soiree our little miss Y/N has planned for us.” CiCi says as she comes around the table and places a kiss along your temple. 

“You are spectacular in that dress, baby.” 

You smile sweetly up at her, gripping her hand. “Thank you.” 

Tía joins your group around the table and they take their seats while you remain standing. They look to you and your nerves return. 

“Y-you all have been so kind to me since I got here…and I never thought I would make it this far. I wouldn’t have…without you. I-I just wanted to thank you all with this dinner. I’ve been learning with Tía," you nod in her direction, meeting her eyes and giving her a smile, "and I made this meal for you all as a thank you." 

You spread your arms out to take in the table. They murmur excitedly as you sit next to Bucky. You glance around and beam at your friends, "Please, dig in!"   
The evening went by filled with laughter and good conversation. They complimented you on the food to which you could only duck your head and shyly smile, thanking them. Once the food was mostly eaten Tía disappears for a moment, returning with a handful of shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. Everyone cheers as she pours each person a glass. 

You hadn't been much of a drinker before Colton, and you certainly didn't enjoy it after. However, the night had been so great, you were surrounded by people who'd made you feel safe, and Colton was nowhere to be seen. So, when a shot is handed to you, you throw it back to cheers around the table. The alcohol burns down your throat, leaving behind a mildly sweet aftertaste. You cough a little and CiCi chortles before she tosses her own down. After downing two more, you decline the next couple rounds, opting instead to enjoy the camaraderie around you. 

Soon the party dies down. CiCi and Damien move over to the couch, whispering and cuddling. You turn away, not wanting to intrude on their private moment. Tía Maria begins picking up the dishes and heads into the kitchen. You follow suit, stacking up some plates and bowls to take with you. 

You set them down next to the sink and reach for an apron. Tía swats away your hand. You give her a puzzled look. 

“The chef should not have to clean her own meal. Go. Go be with the young ones and let this old woman clean up.” Tía chides. 

After she shoos you out with a hand towel you stand in the entryway a little lost for what to do next. You glance over again to CiCi and Damien, both cozied up and somewhat dozing on the couch. Bucky has moved from the table to a recliner tucked away kitty-corner to the couch. He catches your eye and gives you a lopsided grin. He pats his thigh invitingly. 

“There’s room right here for you if you want. I promise I won’t bite.” He laughs at his own joke. 

You bite your lip, feeling your cheeks warm. Normally you would decline the offer, say you are happy to stand around. However, with the alcohol singing through your veins you didn’t feel that same panic that usually dogs at you. You timidly walk towards him, carefully sliding onto his knee. You were just going to stay there, able to flee if you began to feel uncomfortable, but just as you sit Bucky wraps his arms around your waist and draws you closer. You lean into the movement a little, losing balance and bumping into his chest. You hold your breath, expecting your senses to begin setting off alarms. Nothing happens, just the same warm and woozy sensations filling you. 

Your head rests against his shoulder as his metal hand traces light, random patterns along your back. You gradually relax into his touch, your eyes growing so heavy you allow them to close. Dimly you’re aware of soft music playing from the kitchen, Tía singing softly to it… 

You start as Bucky shifts underneath you, picking you up as he stands. 

“C’mon, it’s late. Let me walk you back to your apartment.” Bucky murmurs softly into your ear. 

He sets you onto your feet and you clumsily walk to the kitchen to say goodnight to Tía before letting Bucky lead you out to the hall. 

Once you manage to open your door you make room for Bucky to enter as well. Walking towards the window Bucky turns back to you, his eyes searching yours. You return his gaze, your hazy senses making you feel giddy. 

Without a word Bucky pulls you to him and gently kisses you. His tongue slides along your lips, begging entrance. You part them and let him in, your tongues dancing, teeth scraping against each other. You break apart panting, your breath mingling between you two. You glance up at him. The heat emanating from his hungry gaze sends a slightly panicked thrill through you. 

A tingling sensation starts to pool in your lower stomach. A sensation you aren’t too familiar with. You reach up and curl your fingers into the hair at the back of Bucky’s neck. You cautiously kiss him again, testing the waters. Bucky eagerly returns it’s , slipping his hands down to the undersides of your thighs. You let out a small squeak as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his torso as he carries you to the bedroom. 

You land softly on the mattress. He climbs over the top of you, pressing you down with his body as he reclaims your mouth. You grip his hips as he slowly prods your legs part, settling in between them. You feel his clothed erection slide against your right inner thigh. 

Shh. Just close your eyes if you don’t like it. It’ll be over before you know it. 

The panic floods through you at full force, breaking through the headiness. You break the kiss with a sob, attempting to push Bucky off you. 

“Stop.” You whisper pathetically. 

Bucky halts, raising up onto his elbows. Concern enters his eyes as watches you. You let out a shuddering breath, trying not to hyperventilate. You avoid his gaze. 

“I-I’m sorry… I’m… I’m just not ready yet.” You whisper, too afraid to raise your voice. 

You keep your gaze centered on the doorway. Bucky gently prods you chin to look at him. You reluctantly tilt your head, finally meeting his eyes. You nearly broke at the kindness flowing from them. 

“It’s alright, doll. I, uh, I might not have been thinking too clearly after all the fun tonight too.” He chuckles softly to himself, moving carefully to get off you. 

A new kind of panic surges forward. One afraid to lose the tentative connection you’d forged with Bucky. You grip his forearms waiting for him to look at you again. When he does, you lick your lips before speaking. 

“I-I want to Bucky, I really do. I just… need more time…” your unable to say more, the words sticking in your throat, unwilling to be spoken. You weren’t ready yet to tell him about the worst experiences of your life. 

Bucky considers your words. He shifts his weight to rest onto the mattress alongside you. He touches your cheek and you turn to look at him. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks. You nod. 

There wasn’t a question in your mind that you trusted Bucky. Your body just wasn’t onboard yet. 

“Well then, there are other ways to enjoy one another besides sex.” He says unabashedly, watching your reaction. 

You stare back blankly, not sure you understand his meaning. You hadn’t been very experienced before Colton. You knew the mechanics of sex but had never really put it into practice. Truth be told you weren’t really experienced in sex now, you just hadn’t really had a choice when it came down to it. You shake your head. 

“I don’t understand.” You laugh a little, nervousness bubbling up to the surface. 

“Here,” Bucky rises to his feet, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and jeans. Soon he stands before you in nothing but his boxer briefs. 

He gives you a hand and helps you up. You sway a little on your feet. He looks at you, cupping your left cheek in his palm. 

“If you want us to stop, at anytime, you just say so.” He says firmly. You swallow and nod, unable to look away from his intense gaze. 

He fists the velvety fabric of your dress and pulls it up over your head. You raise your arms and let the material slide up and off. When your head clears it you peer up at Bucky shyly, fighting the urge to shield yourself from him. His eyes are transfixed to your body, his mouth hanging open a little stupidly. He shakes his head a little, shaking off the stupor. 

“Fuck.” He whispers as his hand caresses the soft skin at your right hip. 

CiCi had been right. A lingerie set could make you feel powerful. You rise up on your toes and kiss him once more, stepping closer as he presses his hands into your lower back. 

Bucky walks backwards, bringing you with him until he fell back onto the bed. You dislodge your legs from underneath him, straddling his thighs. 

“You’re in control, doll. This only goes the way you want it to.” Bucky murmurs, running his fingers along your sides. You shiver. 

“Wha-what do I do?” You ask quietly, trembling with anticipation. 

He grips you hips firmly, but not enough to hurt. With deliberate precision Bucky pulls your barely covered slit down and up along his shaft. You gasp at the sudden jolt of pleasure, grasping his forearms. He helps you with a couple more strokes against him, groaning when you put more pressure on his cock, gaining the confidence to move yourself. 

He releases your hips letting you set your own pace. Bucky’s fingers brush along your ribs, playing briefly with the frilly lacy trailing down from the bralette you’re wearing. They continue their journey upward, gently cupping your breasts in each hand. His thumbs swipe along your nipples, rubbing in circles as they harden. 

“Bucky!” You moan loudly, clapping a hand to your mouth as he pinches your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. Electricity pulses through you, stoking the inferno building between your legs. 

He pulls your hand away from your mouth. “Don’t stifle those sweet noises you’re making, doll. It’s music to my ears.” 

He lets go of your hand but instead of going back to fondling your breast it trails down between your legs. You cry out again as he rubs the little nub at your apex with his metal thumb. 

Something unfurls inside you, the pressure needing a release but you’re at a loss. You’d never felt anything like this. 

“Bucky – I-I don’t know what to do –“ you gasp as Bucky grips your neck and pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. Your hips still rock against him, trying to maintain the stimulation. 

He breaks away, piercing you with an icy blue look. 

“Let it go, darling. Come for me.” 

The string of control snaps. You moan and cry out Bucky’s name as white hot fire burns through you. Your hips stutter to a halt. As your first orgasm subsides you nestle against Bucky’s chest in wonder and slight embarrassment as you’re aware of the dampness between you and Bucky. 

He kisses the top of your head, softly caressing your back as you catch your breath. He rolls to the side, slipping you off of him as he stands. You glance at him curiously. He chuckles at your confusion. 

“We’re not done yet, Y/N. Kneel on the bed for me. Please.” He murmurs. 

You comply, your knees still trembling. Bucky leans against the bed, pressing open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck. He loops his fingers into the band of your panties and drags them down your legs. You lift one knee at a time as he slips them completely off. You shudder at being this exposed to him. 

“Move up further on the bed and lie down.” He instructs. You follow his direction, lying back and watching him through hooded eyes while Bucky finishes disrobing. 

You keep your knees locked together as Bucky climbs back on the bed, but he gently pries them apart, settling in between them. His hands grip the sides of your thighs to keep them apart. Your heart flips. 

“Wh-wha-what are you doing?” You ask timidly, shocked. 

He glances up at your face before placing a soft, languid kiss to your slit. You try to snap your legs closed but his hands prevent them from budging. 

“I get the feeling that no one has ever pleasured you before, and that’s what I intend to do tonight.” Bucky says with a smirk. 

Before your brain can register the words Bucky licks a hot, wet stripe along your slit. Your hips buck and instinctively you bury your fingers into his hair. 

“Oh Buck!” You whimper, still sensitive from your first release. 

He pulls away long enough to say, “That’s it, doll. Just keep saying my name like that.” 

Bucky releases his grip on your left thigh and slides his thumb along your nub just as he dips his tongue into your center. Your hips buck again and you tug on his hair. He growls appreciatively, flicking his tongue in and out of you. 

You moan and whimper, helpless to his ministrations. Soon the pressure has built back up, ready to explode. You’re aware of him letting go of your other thigh. You peek down just as a cool metal finger joins his tongue in penetrating you. 

Stars burst in your vision as you bury the side of your face into the bedding, crying out. Your legs clasp onto Bucky as you ride out the wave of ecstasy from your second orgasm. He carefully pries them open again, wrapping your legs around his waist as he quickly pumps his cock over you. 

Bucky grunts and calls out your name as he climaxes. You feel the warm splash of his come dripping onto your stomach. Breathless you pull him down on top of you and ravish his mouth. After a moment of fevered kissing he pulls away, rolling off the edge of the bed. Bucky walks into the bathroom. Your eyes grow heavy as you listen to the faucet run. 

You open your eyes when the bed shifts. You watch as he carefully cleans you, wiping up his spent seed from your stomach. He bends down, bringing your panties up with him. He helps you slide them back on, followed by one of his t-shirts he’d snagged from the closet. 

Once you’re snuggled into the bed he cleans himself up and crawls under the covers with you. He hauls you closer, enfolding you into his arms. You sigh happily and quickly drift to sleep. 

••• 

Sunlight is barely filtering in from the window when you awaken. Bucky’s arms tighten around you painfully. He mumbles incoherently in his sleep, jerking every now and then. Your mind still muddled, you struggle to pull away. 

“Bucky – ow – Bucky you’re hurting me, stop.” You attempt to get out of his grip. 

You’re unprepared when he rolls on top of you. Before you can stop him his hands wrap around your neck and squeeze hard. You choke, hitting his sides as hard as you can, but you might as well be striking a wall for all the good it did. Fear seizes your heart. You look into Bucky’s face, but it’s as if there’s no one there. His face is completely vacant; his eyes unseeing. 

In a last ditch effort to get away you knee him as hard as you can in the groin. Bucky grunts and shifts off of you enough that you scramble to the edge of the bed. You get tangled in the sheets and tumble off, landing hard on the wooden floor. You keep moving until you’re huddled into corner of the room, your mind raging wildly and confused. 

Bucky groans and rises from his slumped position on the bed. Hearing your stifled whimper he stares at you, a mixture of horror and bewilderment etched across his features. Guilt enters his eyes as he takes in your cowering form and the angry red marks around your neck. He opens his mouth then shuts it, at a loss. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He whispers before he bolts out the bedroom door. 

You stare after him, your breath shuddering as you try to wrap your mind around what just happened. Your heart beats painfully against your ribs. You curl in on yourself and weep.


	10. It Isn’t In My Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader tries to understand what happened between her and Bucky. More incidents occur. She wishes to know more about him so she reaches out to someone who can help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! I’ve been so excited to write this, but it has been hell achieving that. I finally got to complete it last night only to get caught up in writing that I let my computer die. All I can say is thank god for Microsoft’s OneDrive and auto save. So this fic has been pretty sweet and fluffy up until now. It’s gonna be a little sad and angsty the next couple of updates, but I promise there will be happy times again for them both! Thank you guys for being so patient between updates. You all are truly the best!
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> “Everything” - Lifehouse
> 
> “In My Blood” - Shawn Mendes

“I’m going to kill him.” CiCi quietly fumes, carefully arranging the silk scarf around your neck.

After Bucky had fled the apartment, you’d spent a good deal of time curled up on the floor weeping. You’d been shell shocked, unable to move. When CiCi had knocked on your door, it’d been to chat about the night before. The second you’d finally opened the door, however, that all changed.

“Please don’t be so harsh on him.” You say softly.

CiCi stops, stepping back to stare at you with arms akimbo.

“Don’t be harsh? Baby, it looks like he tried to strangle the life right outta you!” She exclaims.

Holding CiCi’s gaze a moment you glance down to the floor, contemplating. You swallow, feeling the soreness in the muscles as you do. It’s true; it certainly felt like Bucky had been trying to kill you. Yet, now that you’d had time to calm down and process what happened the whole situation felt off.

“I think he was more frightened than I was by what he did. You didn’t see his face, Cees.” You say.

“Sugar, I don’t need to be there to see it. One look at your neck and I can see the malice.” 

You shake your head, needing her to understand.

“It was like he wasn’t there. Not at first. I-I know what malice looks like when someone wants to – and enjoys – hurting you…” you let your voice trail off, twisting your fingers nervously.

You breathe deeply, “He snapped out of a trance Cees, and when he did… he was horrified by it.” Yes, that felt right. 

CiCi studies you a long minute before she sighs, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Alright fine, maybe it was an accident. But you’re gonna need to talk to him and get to the bottom of it before I change my mind and give him a piece of it.”

You nod in agreement, stomach twisting in unease. You may not blame him for what happened, but it didn’t mean you were thrilled with the prospect of confronting him. CiCi sighs again, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m sorry that this has happened to you.” She murmurs.

You remain silent. Mulling a decision over in your head, you shift your body to face her. “Do you remember when we first met? When you asked me what my story was?” 

“Yes…” CiCi answers carefully.

You reach for her hands, squeezing them for support. With one more deep breath you begin.

“I’m ready to start telling you.”

•••

It took you the better part of the afternoon to lay out your story to CiCi. Well most of it. You told her of Colton and your turbulent relationship with him, but the other parts were still too hard to speak out loud.

By the time you’d finished you needed to start heading to work. CiCi hugged you tightly and offered to accompany you, but you declined. Better to stand on your own if you were ever going to get over your past, and recent, trauma.

“What’s with the scarf?” Naomi asks, as you come out to the bar and settle into your routine. 

Naomi was another waitress at The Grandstand who, between flirting with the patrons and singing along with Michael’s playing, occasionally did her job. She was the bane of Maggie’s existence and Marcus’s current squeeze. You didn’t mind her most days, unless she was needling you about your appearance. She thought you didn’t dress…attractive enough for the clientele. Most of the time you could smile benignly and muster through it; today you just couldn’t take it.

“Look, Naomi. I know my style choices aren’t ones you agree with, but not everyone enjoys showing off skin. So I would really appreciate it if you would just back off.” You say, glancing up at her in challenge at the end.

Naomi lifts an eye brow in surprise, and for a moment you think she’s going to start a fight. Instead she just pushes off the bar counter and sidles away. You tremble, the adrenaline of defending yourself leaving you shaken. You’d never done that before.

Soon the little encounter is forgotten. You lose yourself in work, milling between tables taking patron orders. You were glad to have the distraction, both from Naomi and from the Bucky situation.

Halfway through the night you pause by the bar, taking a brief moment to recover from the sudden rush that always seemed to happen around ten o’ clock at night. You offer a small smile to the bartender, Owen. Taking another deep breath you stand up straight to walk away.

Your neck snaps back as something tugs against the silk scarf, aggravating the tender bruises circling it. The cloth pulls free from your neck. You whirl around wide-eyed, bringing your hand up to cover the bruising while searching for the culprit. Naomi smirks triumphantly, dangling the small piece of fabric from her index finger.

“Mmm, kinky. I can see why you’d cover that up. It’s a little unseemly.” Naomi taunts.

Your vision blurs and before you realize what you’re doing, you slap her across the face. In her dazed state you snatch the scarf from her hands and quickly retie it around your throat. Naomi glances up to you, the shock turning into rage. She screams and makes to lunge at you before Marcus suddenly swoops in and hauls her back.

“Whoooa there. Let’s not start this cat fight in the middle of my club, hmm?” Marcus says as he drags Naomi out of sight.

Maggie stares dumbstruck at you. You breathe heavily, shaking yet again. You look out towards the club floor. Some of the customers watching and whispering to one another. Others attempting to ignore the upset, not wanting to get involved. Maggie approaches you carefully.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” She goes to touch your shoulder but you pull back.

“I – I need to go.” You whisper.

“Ah..” Maggie begins to say something but thinks better of it, “Yes, perhaps that will be best for now. Maybe take a few days off too. Just to let things cool off.” She suggests kindly, her eyes shifting subtly to your neck.

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat before nodding once, taking your leave.

•••

“Bucky… Bucky please. If you’re in there we need to talk…” You knock for the third time, pleading yet again for him to come out.

You’re met with silence. You sigh in frustration, turning to leave. It’d been two days since the bewildering attack. You had put it off after the fight at work, having dealt with too many emotions already that day. You knew you couldn’t avoid it forever though. Besides, you were already missing him.

On the ride in the elevator back to your floor you ponder how to get Bucky to talk to you. You’d waited around his usual haunts around the complex, hoping to find him tinkering away on a repair. You’d gone around asking the other tenants if they’d seen him. None had seen him the last couple of days. That had worried you. After that you’d gone out the fire escape and tested his window, but it was shut tight. His absence was making you anxious.

You close the door to your apartment, leaning against it in defeat. You just didn’t know where to begin. You had gotten closer to Bucky, but the more you thought about it you really didn’t know any intimate details about him at all. You just needed some clue to figure out where he would go in a time of crisis.

A memory flits across your mind. You hurriedly shuffle to the kitchen, opening the closest drawer to the entryway. After some digging around you finally find what you’re looking for. Holding up the card you read the name along the bottom. Steve Rogers.

You bite your bottom lip, scrunching your brows together in worry. It felt wrong to pry into Bucky’s business, especially when you’d been so tight lipped about your own problems. Ultimately the concern gnawing away at your heart won out and you dialed the number. The line rang a few times before a deep, male voice answers.

“Hello, this is Steve Rogers.” 

Your voice stuck in your throat, still uncertain you should follow through with this.

“….Hello?” The man asks again, confusion evident.

“H – hi – Hello, um… I – I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m the girl living in Bucky’s extra apartment. You gave me your card and said I should call…” you voice trails off, your confidence flagging again.

“Oh! Yes, what can I do for you?” The man perks up, taking on a cheerier tone. It helps to set your mind at ease as you gear up for what you’re about to ask next.

“Umm, I was hoping I could meet with you to talk about Bucky?”

•••

You stand outside the café, watching the tall, blonde man as he sits sipping at his coffee, waiting. He sports the same leather jacket you’d first encountered him in; a nice plaid, button – up shirt and and khaki pants completing the outfit. He glances around the room, kindly smiling to passing customers as he makes eye contact with them.

There was no explanation for what possessed you to make arrangements to meet with a complete stranger. The words had left your mouth before you’d even processed them. So, you reasoned with yourself, it was natural to stand outside like a weirdo and observe him before meeting.

His easy demeanor and laidback manner helped to calm the riotous fears clamoring in your chest. He seemed like the type to be honest and trustworthy. Seemed to be. You could still go back home and pretend this rendezvous was to never take place. The doubts echoed in your head, but if you turned back now you might not learn how to reach Bucky. The window to salvage whatever tenuous relationship you had with him was dwindling fast. Without another thought you waltz over to the door and yank it open.

You hoped you could put off the meeting a little longer by going to the counter and ordering, but the minute you entered, Steve’s eyes zeroed in on you. You sigh a little and make your way to his table. Better to just bite the bullet. He smiles a little uncertainly and rises as you approach.

“Y/N?” He asks, sticking out his hand in offering for a handshake.

You take his hand gingerly, barely touching him. You put on the best smile you can muster, “Y-yes, hi.” 

His smile broadens, “Nice to formally meet you.”

“L-likewise. I was just going to…” you pull your hand away and turn slightly to point to the counter, needing to break away for a moment.

“Oh! Here, let me get it for you. What would you like?” He walks past you, swiveling to face you as he waited for your answer.

Your first thought was to protest, but you relent and give him your order. He goes to place it while you sit patiently at the table. His genuine kindness helping to ease the nauseousness in your stomach. When he returns he hands you the hot drink. You blow lightly into the paper cup, bringing it to your lips. A cautious sip and you pull it away, too hot to enjoy just yet. Steve breaks the silence.

“So, what did you want to discuss?” He asks, eyebrows raised in polite curiosity.

You set the cup onto the table adjusting uncomfortably in your seat. No point in beating around the bush. “Umm, well it’s about Bucky. I – I was wondering if you knew where he would go after something… bad happens?” You finish, the words hard to get out.

Steve stares at you a moment, trying to decipher your meaning. “What… does ‘bad’ entail?” He asks carefully.

You worry your lip between your teeth. Quickly scanning the people around you to make sure no one was watching, you carefully pull back the scarf to reveal the bruising around your neck. It wasn’t as bad as before, having had a few days to heal, but the marks were still pretty visible. Steve’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise and he sucks in a breath.

“Ah. That bad, huh? Are you alright?” He questions, leaning in to keep his voice low.

You let the scarf fall back into place, nodding. You were a little touched by the concern that edged his tone. “Yes, I was shaken, but now I just want to talk to him. No one has seen him for days and I’m worried. I just want to make sure he’s okay.” 

Steve taps his fingers against his coffee, his other hand skating through his hair. He lets out a heavy sigh. 

“Well, I’m afraid I won’t be much help. I’ve been trying to track him down for a couple months now. After an… incident… he usually hops from bar to bar, trying to forget. Problem is he never goes to the same ones so it’s hard to catch him. He’s pretty good at disappearing when he wants to.” Steve says wearily.

You slump a little in your seat, disappointed to discover you were no closer to finding Bucky. You ponder his words a moment, lingering on a particular word he used.

“You said after an ‘incident’, has this happened before?” You ask, gesturing towards your throat.

Steve blows out the air in his lungs, swiping a hand over his face. He leans back into his chair, stuffing his hands into his pockets before replying.

“How much of Buck’s history do you know?” He asks, studying you.

You shrug, discomfited by the sudden change in subject. “Not a lot… he told me he used to be a soldier, but he never went into detail…” you admit.

He nods, seeming to decide on something. He shifts position again, this time more intent on you. 

“Look, I don’t know if I should be telling you any of this, but judging by the handiwork Buck left behind I think it’s important you know. Yeah. He was a soldier. We both were. Well, are still technically. I’ve known Bucky my whole life. We’re more brothers than friends. Joined up in the army and served. Special Ops, went in and stopped terrorist events from ever happening, or tried anyways.” He pauses, taking a sip from his cup.

“One mission didn’t end so well. Bucky got captured. We couldn’t find him for a long time. We were certain he was dead. Months passed before he turned up again, but he was different. They’d tortured him. Brainwashed him. Left him with a severed arm and an experimental prosthetic. We brought him home, had a friend with some connections try and help him. The guy fixed his arm issues but… the trauma was still there. Buck ended up hurting some people, so he vanished. Tried to run from everyone he’s ever cared about to protect them. I guess he’s trying to do it again.” Steve finishes.

You sit stunned. You had wanted to find out more about Bucky, but this certainly hadn’t been what you expected. The image Steve painted did not coincide with the flirtatious, carefree man you’d come to know. Then again, masks could come in all shapes and sizes. You stare down at your coffee in silence, no longer wishing to have the drink. A brief silence settles between you two and your surprised when you glance up to notice Steve watching you.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Steve requests.

A little wary you nod for him to continue. He drops his gaze a moment, pondering his words. When he looks back up, there’s a raw intensity that steals your breath.

“Don’t give up on Bucky. I know what he did was probably really bad, but he’s had some really hard knocks too. Just… don’t be quick to cut loose when it gets hard.” 

You ease your shoulders. You meet his eyes hoping your resolve is evident to him.

“I won’t.”

•••

You latch the door behind you, dropping your bag to the floor before padding over to the piano. Though your meeting with Steve Rogers hadn’t gone as you hoped, you did learn some things about Bucky. It hadn’t been a total waste. You just wished, now more than ever, you had a way to find him. You needed him to understand that while he had scared you, you didn’t fear him. Not like Colton. Definitely not like him.

Needing to sort out the conflict inside you, you play a few practice notes. The sounds resonate around you, soothing the ache deep within your heart. You start to play the song that once you’d only associated with your mother. Now you also thought of a kind, blue-eyed man, too afraid to face the demons that dogged at him day and night.

You hit some discordant notes as a loud crashing sounds upon the apartment floor above you followed by a loud thud.

Bucky! You think, scrambling to push open you window and climb out onto the fire escape. 

You clamor to his landing, peering inside his window. You didn’t see him though you could tell that he’d been there. Liquor bottles that hadn’t been there before on your previous trips littered the floor. A warning bell sounded in your head that something wasn’t right. You race back down to your apartment. Going into the kitchen you rifle through the utensil drawer until you’ve procured a sturdy looking knife.

Once you’re back on the fire escape you wiggle the knife into the crevice between the window panes. With as much force as you can muster you shove the knife as hard as you can against the lock; the old metal breaking apart. You slide open the window and clumsily tumble in, knocking a few of the bottles together.

“Bucky?” You called, waiting for a reply.

Silence descends on you. Carefully, you make your way to the bedroom, pausing briefly to peer over the kitchen bar to make sure he wasn’t in there. As you push open the door you find the bedroom in similar disarray as the rest of the apartment but no Bucky. You walk over to the bathroom door, reaching into the darkness to flip on the light. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust.

“Oh my god! Bucky!” You scream.

Glass and blood cover the floor, an unconscious Bucky lying in the middle of it. One of the glass doors to the shower no longer in its place. A sizable gash along Bucky’s temple reveals the source of all the blood. You slowly kneel beside him, taking care not to cut yourself on the glass. 

“Bucky? Bucky? Can you hear me?” Your voice shakes as you call to him.

His eyes flutter for a moment, attempting to open but failing. He moans low in his throat. Panic bubbles up in your own throat. You take a few calming breaths through your nose. It wouldn’t help the situation to go into hysterics right now. You brush away his hair from his face, trying to see the extent of the damage. Other than a few small shards embedded into his skin, the only major injury appeared to be the gash.

“Bucky, if you can hear me I’m going to call for help. I’ll be right back.” You say to him. You go to push up from the floor when his fingers snake around your wrist.

“N-no… s-stay…” he slurs weakly. A thick waft of alcohol comes off him as he speaks.

You bite your tongue hard to the point that you almost draw blood. Tears well up in your eyes. With your freed hand you feel around his pockets for a cell phone. Finding it in his left front pocket, you coax it out. You dial the emergency number with trembling fingers, trying your best to relay the issue to the dispatcher. You curl protectively around Bucky’s head, weeping softly as you wait on the line with her. 

It feels like an eternity has passed when the ambulance and paramedics finally arrive. You reluctantly move out of their way as they cart Bucky down to the street though you remain hot on their trail. You climb into the ambulance after they load him in, taking his hand as you do. It drives away from the curb quickly transporting you both to the hospital. 

You soothe your fingers softly over Bucky's hand, needing the contact to reassure you he'd be okay. Fishing around in your back pocket for his phone and the bent card you dial the number from it again for the second time that day.

"Steve? It's Y/N. Bucky really needs you."


	11. Tell Me How To Feel About You Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader deals with the aftermath of Bucky’s incident. Will the strain be too much for their budding relationship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update isn’t too exciting, and is probably a little depressing. But it has to be done! The next update will be better, I promise. Thank you guys for sticking with the story! I often fear it’s getting redundant and boring, so I hope that isn’t the case. Please let me know what you think?
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> “1000 Times” - Sara Bareilles
> 
> “Tell Me How” - Paramore
> 
> “River Flows In You” - Yiruma (Bucky’s Song)
> 
> Y/F/N - Your fake name

It’d been nearly twenty-four hours since you’d found Bucky on the bathroom floor of his apartment and called the ambulance. Blood alcohol poisoning. His blood alcohol content was 0.274%. Bucky had almost killed himself trying to drink away his problems.

Steve had arrived about ten minutes after you did. At the time you weren’t really sure about Bucky’s condition. All you two could do was wait. An hour and sixteen stitches to his temple later, you could see Bucky. He rested comfortably in the hospital bed. Now you and Steve waited and hoped Bucky would wake up.

You yawn, stretching out your arms and legs from your cramped perch from a chair. A firm hand rests on your shoulder causing you to flinch. You look up into Steve’s face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Why don’t you go walk around and get something to eat? I’ll take it from here.” He suggests.

You worry your lip, glancing at Bucky’s prone form. Indecision plagues you. You didn’t want to be gone if he awoke. As if to weigh in on the decision your stomach gurgles loudly. You sigh.

“Okay. I’ll be back soon.” You say, rising to your feet.

Down in the cafeteria you purchase a chicken salad sandwich and water, taking a seat at a table near a large window. You half-heartedly unwrap the sandwich, pushing it aside after a moment. While your body insisted you needed to eat, you just didn’t feel like it. Your spirits were pretty low.

All the time you’d known Bucky he’d been happy and seemingly carefree. You’d taken solace in his laidback manner, finding it easy to trust and relax near him. Seeing Bucky now after his episode and subsequent binge drinking left you on shaky ground. You didn’t blame him for what happened, but perhaps you’d opened yourself up to him too quickly. 

Your cell phone rings and you dig it out of your pocket, picking at the crust of your sandwich.

“Hello?”

“Hey Sug, how’s our boy doing?” CiCi’s voice came on the line. Hearing her voice caused a lump to form in your throat. 

“Uhh… he’s stable… The drinking did a number on him, and he hit his head so hard he’s a bit concussed, but the doctor said he should recover… Given that he wakes up.” You inform her. She tuts.

“That boy has been on some benders but nothing this bad. He was certainly trying to escape some demons…” she sighs. “I have to head to work now, but you text me when there’s news, alright hun?” 

You promise to update her and say goodbye. Slipping the phone back into your pocket you dutifully eat your sandwich.

Your mind wanders as you make your way back up to Bucky’s room. The closer you get you can hear shouting. A commotion has stirred. Right in Bucky’s room. Your heart clenches and you pick up the pace.

“Where are my clothes?! I want to leave now!” You can hear Bucky yelling as you come up to the door.

You jump back as a harried nurse dashes out, muttering about security.

“You can’t leave, Buck! You nearly succeeded in turning your blood to sludge, they have to make sure you’re gonna be okay! Now shut up and lay down!” Steve shouts back. His large frame blocks the doorway, back facing you.

You peer around him into the room. Bucky paces the floor from the bed to the opposite wall like a caged animal.

“How’d I even get here? How’d you know where I’d be? You can’t get after dodging your calls and visits I don’t want to see you?!” Bucky works himself up a bit more, his pacing quickens.

“You need to calm. Down. Y/N called me. She’s been looking for you ever since your…episode with her. She found you passed out and bleeding on your bathroom floor. You’re lucky she did otherwise you’d be dead.” Steve says. 

Bucky scoffs, “She should have just minded her damn business. Ironic that the girl who never speaks about her problems would go digging headfirst into mine. I didn’t ask anyone to save me!” He grabs the dry erase marker from the board on the wall and hurls it towards Steve. 

Steve ducks, unaware you’re standing right behind him. You flinch just enough for the marker to pelt you in the arm. You yelp, a little too loudly for the object’s size, as it bounces off. Like the flip of a switch memories of Colton come flooding back. Him throwing things, screaming in your face. Hurting you as the wave of his anger rose. Shaken, you glance up at the two men.

Whereas Steve’s face was a mask of shock, Bucky’s was one of horror. He took a step towards you.

“Y/N… shit!” He falls back, the IV pulling against its connection to him.

Hysteria bubbles up. Your panicked mind sounded a warning bell. Run. Get away. You couldn’t do this again. Steve reaches out to you. You pull away. A small whimper escapes your lips. 

“I’m sorry…” you moan before turning and sprinting down the hall, both men calling for you.

•••

You felt so stupid for fleeing the way you did the evening before. The flight response had just been so strong. You sweep up more of the broken glass, dumping it into the garbage can you’d brought in from the kitchen. You couldn’t bear going back to the hospital, you decided to do the next best thing and clean up Bucky’s apartment. 

Someone clears their throat while you scrub at the linoleum floor. You start, whirling around. A curvy, red-headed woman stands just outside the bathroom. 

“Uh, hi. Who are you? Bucky sent me to get some things for him.” She explains as you continue to stare at her open mouthed. 

“Oh! I’m Y/N… his downstairs neighbor I guess…” you say, awkwardly sticking out your hand as you stand.

“Nat.” She offers her hand and a friendly, if a little standoffish, smile. “You don’t need to clean that. That’s what Clint is here for.” She gestures behind her.

You look and see a stocky man with short hair and a grim expression. He purses his lips and gives you a two finger salute when he sees you staring.

“Oh… is Bucky not coming back?” Your heart sinks. 

From the way she spoke it sounded like Bucky would be gone indefinitely. Had you really upset him that much? And who was this woman? She was rather pretty, and seemed very self – assured. You fiddle uncomfortably with your pruned hands. Did Bucky and her have a thing?

The woman called ‘Nat’ shrugs. “Not really sure. Steve wants him to stick around the VA center for a while. I can’t believe he actually got him to agree this time.” She turns to look at Clint as if seeing if he agreed with her. 

“Okay. Well I’ll just... leave you guys to it.” You mumble unsure of what to do with yourself. 

Disheartened you head out the door.

•••

“Oh Sug, he doesn’t hate you. Why would you say that?” CiCi caresses your head as she brushes out the tangles in your hair.

You’d been hiding out in your apartment the last day, slipping further into a reclusive state. You had called off work, determined to shut out the world. You knew you were being silly. You couldn’t stay cooped up forever. 

“Because he was so angry to be in the hospital. He said I should just mind my business… I just –“ you stop talking, your throat closing off as you attempt not to cry again.

“That doesn’t sound like he hates you baby. He’s sick and scared. He wasn’t thinking straight. People say things all the time they don’t mean. He just needs time to get his head straight.” She urges, plaiting your hair into a neat braid.

You shake your head slightly, guilt eating at you. “He was right, I shouldn’t have gone digging when I’ve kept my secrets so close to my chest.” You reason, talking more to yourself than to CiCi.

CiCi stops fussing with your hair and walks around to face you. When you refuse to look up at her she crooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head upward. Reluctantly you meet her eyes.

“Now you listen to me. You both have had your reasons for keeping your secrets. Yours were just to preserve yourself from a mad man. Buck’s were going to keep destroying him until there was nothing left. You saved him, Y/N. He will see the good in that someday.” 

You doubt her words, images of Bucky’s angry face flashing in your mind. You tried to remind yourself that there had been remorse in his face just before you’d fled, but you couldn’t be sure if it’d been from being caught expressing true feelings or because he’d regretted speaking without thinking. You’d just have to live with not knowing. As it stood you didn’t think Bucky would be coming back. You smile up at her sadly.

“It’s probably for the best anyways.” You say, waving CiCi off as she begins to protest. “I better get ready for work.”

•••

Talking to Maggie had been slightly less terrifying than you thought, though it was still painful. 

“Really, I wasn’t upset with you. Naomi has always been a bitch. I was just surprised it was you to put her in her place. I only sent you home because I felt you needed a break. Which...if I’m being honest, you still look like you need? Is everything okay?” Maggie’s eyebrows knit in concern.

You give her a wane smile, “Yes, it’ll be fine. I just want things to go back to normal.” You admit exhaustedly.

So the days went. You’d go to work; you’d come home. Sometimes you’d spend the day helping Tía around her apartment. Occasionally CiCi and Damien could coax you out for lunch. The days turned into weeks with no sign of Bucky. The owners of the building hired a temp to care for its maintenance. It hurt to see a stranger everywhere you’d grown accustomed to seeing Bucky. You tried to push down the pain. You didn’t want to examine why it hurt so much. You kept reminding yourself this was for the best. This was safe. The quicker you could move on the better. 

If you allowed yourself to be honest, though, then you knew you missed him. The nightmares had returned in full force, keeping you awake most nights. You missed to comfort of his presence. The way his steady breathing had grounded you, promising you’d be safe. You’d taken to sitting in front of the piano, the one Bucky had gifted to you, and thought of him. Alone in the dark, early hours of morning, it was the only time you would let your mind wander to him. You played the pieces he loved, the ones that reminded you so much of his smile. When those songs began to run low you’d absently play, letting your fingers run along the keys writing their own song. It was a melody they played often enough you didn’t need to write it down. 

The evening that marked three weeks since you’d last seen Bucky you go to check on Tía Maria. You knock on her door once before letting yourself in.

“Tía? I’m getting ready to head off to work. Are you set for the night? Do you need anything?” You call out to the little, old blind woman.

“Oh mija!” she feels her way into the living room. You meet her halfway, bending down so she can kiss and pat your cheek. “How are you? You don’t sound well.” She asks, holding your face in between her hands.

You sigh. It was getting tiresome, being asked so many times if you were alright, but you knew they meant well. “I’m doing just fine Tía. I’m just leaving for work. Do you need anything.”

Tía releases you and claps her hands as though she just remembered something important. “Oh yes! I want to make some cookies tomorrow, but I’m out of flour. Would you mind picking me up some on your way home? If it’s not too much trouble!”

You smile, planting a quick kiss to her cheek. “It’s not a bother, I would be happy to get it for you.”

You bid her a good night and headed off to work. 

Your shift starts out pretty normal. Naomi continues to go between sneering at or ignoring you, but she keeps her distance like she’s done since your fight. This you can handle. You mill about the tables and get lost in the monotony. Not surprisingly, the club is quiet. Michael never showed to start his shift. Maggie entreats you to play and you agree. You start off with the normal set, playing jazzy, upbeat pieces. 

You aren’t sure why, perhaps it’s your flagging spirits, or the somber cloud that seems to constantly hang over your head these days, but as the last song ends and you begin the next you tap out the first notes to Bucky’s song. You pour yourself into it, bleeding all the anxiety, hurt, and loss you’d felt the last couple weeks. For the first time since the night in the hospital you allow yourself to feel everything you’ve kept bottled in, momentarily forgetting the small, crowded club of bargoers. 

As the song ends you jump from the clamoring patrons. You laugh a little at the whooping and whistles as you give your audience a small bow. You glance over to Maggie and your smile falters a bit. Marcus had apparently decided to make an appearance tonight during your song and his eyes were locked right on you. You swallow nervously as you keep playing, very aware of the eyes observing you. As the night draws to a close, you step down from the stage. Marcus and Maggie wait at the bar, the brief smile she gives you doing little to put you at ease. 

“Umm... Marcus, I know I’m not supposed to play but - “You try to explain, but he interrupts. 

“I know what I said, however... I’ve reconsidered. It seems you have a very special gift, Y/F/N, it wouldn’t do to squander it.” Marcus says, giving you a wink and placing his hand on your shoulder.

If you didn’t like the way Marcus looked at you on days he wasn’t interested in speaking to you, you really didn’t like the way he looked at you now. You try your best not to shudder but pull yourself out from under the weight of his hand. 

“Thank you.” You say quietly, trying to make the step you take back seem casual. 

“Work with Maggie on a schedule around the times Michael is supposed to play and we’ll get you back up on that stage. Good work tonight!” Marcus turns and heads out, waving goodbye dismissively as he leaves.

Maggie rolls her eyes. “As if you haven’t played most nights you’ve worked since you started with us!” She laughs and you can’t help but grin. She sobers. “Seriously though, you do have a wonderful gift. That song you played was amazing! I’ve never heard it before!”

You laugh a little, “That’s because it’s never been played to an audience. It’s my own song.”

Maggie continues to fawn over you, making you blush. After you help close up you bid them all goodnight and head to a super market that was still open. You’d told Tía you’d get her flour and you weren’t going to disappoint the woman.

Bag of flour acquired you make the journey back to your apartment building. The night air is cold, a forewarning to the snow that will soon fall as the winter months start rolling in. You pull your coat tighter around you. A little worry starts to niggle at the back of your mind. You can’t shake the feeling like you’re still being watched. A tendril of fear coils its way up your spine, but you try to push it away. You sneak a glance behind you but don’t see anyone. 

Stop being paranoid. You told yourself, but the feeling persists. As the building comes into view you breathe a little easier. You pick up your pace, eager to get inside. Just as your about to enter the front entry a firm hand grabs your shoulder. 

You scream.


	12. I’ll Love You Like You’ve Never Felt the Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky attempts to make amends. You reveal parts of your past. You both take tentative steps forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the unexpected hiatus I took in writing this. I’m not entirely sure it was worth the wait. But I hope you enjoy it all the same!
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> “Sober Saturday Night” - Chris Young  
> “Little Do You Know” - Alex & Sierra  
> “At War” - Letters from the Fire

You jerk back, tripping on the top stair and bumping up against the glass door.

“Shit! Sorry – I’m sorry! I should have known better than to surprise you.” It takes a moment for you to register Bucky’s voice.

You glance at him, his hands raised in the air trying to look as harmless as he can. You cover your chest, soothing your fingers over your heart trying to calm the palpitations. The door pushes into your back, and you struggle to get your feet under you to stand back. A disgruntled tenant shoots you a dirty look before bustling down the stairway, passed Bucky. He sidesteps to make room and in his preoccupation you take the opportunity to dart around the door into the building. 

Bucky calls after you and you can hear his footfalls quickly approaching. Waiting on the elevator would take too long, so you decide to push your way into the stairwell and hustle up the stairs. You force your legs to move faster, the exertion causing your muscles and lungs to burn. An acrid scent of stale smoke makes you choke; someone had been sneaking cigarettes in the stairwell again.

“Y/N, please! I need to apologize – to talk to you!” Bucky begs, his voice getting closer in spite of your efforts to move further away.

“I’ve been getting help, I’m sorry I said those things at the hospital. I was just so afraid I thought I needed to push you out — I’ve been miserable. Please stop Y/N…”

“It’s… alright Bucky… I just got startled… that’s all. It’s fine.” You breathe out, attempting to hide the wavering in your voice.

“No! Not about that – well, yes I’m sorry for startling you, but I need to apologize about the other day. I – “

“You were right Bucky, I shouldn’t have butted in. Now please, let me go. An apology isn’t necessary.” You plead with him.

It was better this way, you’d reasoned the last weeks he’d been gone. It was the best way to protect yourself, and you’d begun to convince yourself being alone would be safest. You couldn’t let him convince you otherwise, it would hurt too much to break again.

You can feel his presence just behind you, and you know you’re no match for his long strides. Still, you press harder, using the sticky railing to pull yourself along. You feel the weight of the plastic bag in your left hand shift, and before you can pull it back the plastic gives way. The flour bag topples to the stair below, in between you and Bucky. You watch in dismay as it lands with a heavy thunk and splits open, a plume of white powder shooting into the air.

You turn your face to avoid breathing in the white cloud. Bucky sputters and coughs, getting the full brunt of the spray of flour. You shield your nose and peer down the steps. A fine layer of flour settles over every inch of him, dusting his hair, clothes, and face. He blinks a few times, the flour breaking apart at the creases of his eyes. The sight before you made for a very poor imitation of a ghost.

You slap your hand over your mouth, stifling the sudden laughter that bubbles up from your chest. Bucky swipes at his face , spreading the flour more than getting rid of it. The more he swipes the harder you laugh. Tears stream down your face as you sink to the stairs, the split bag dangling from your wrist.

“Oh my god, what a mess!” You wheeze, wiping the moisture gathered under your eyes.

Bucky lets out an embarrassed chuckle, sliding onto the stair just below you. He puts his head between his hands and shakes out his hair. It sends out another white dust cloud and your laughter renews. You lean against the wall. 

“You’re a mess! I’m a mess! This place is a mess, we’re all just a big mess.” You babble, and for a moment you think you’ve really lost your mind this time.

With that burst of uncontrollable laughter if felt like everything you’d been holding in was forcing its way out. You were powerless to stop it. You just had to let it run its course.

As your fit dies down you feel the tentative pressure of Bucky’s fingers on top of your knee. Your muscles twitch but you don’t pull away. He moves to kneel in front of you, eyes big and pleading. His arms on either side of your legs should make you feel caged, but you don’t. You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“I’m sorry… I’ve been a huge idiot.” Bucky laments.

“Yes… you were,” you surprise yourself with the retort. You swallow again, averting your eyes to your lap. “But you were right. I had no business delving into your past the way I did.”

You see Bucky’s hand move towards your face in your periphery. In subconscious panic you pull back, regretting it the moment you see his crestfallen face. He looks away, returning his hand to the step you were seated on. Bucky shakes his head.

“No. I was wrong. I should have let you all in when I knew I needed help but I — I didn’t know how to save you from… from me.” That same panic you saw after he’d hurt you enters his eyes.

“So… your friends helped you? Steve and… Nat?” Her name left a sour taste in your mouth, the question asking more than you intended to.

Bucky’s lips quirk slightly, “Yes, my friends helped me. Just friends.” he chuckles before he sobers once more.

“That night…You looked at me the same way you did the first day I met you. It broke my heart, rabbit. I — I thought if I left you alone, if distanced myself from you then you’d be safe. It killed me to stay away from you,” his hands flutter up to touch you but he drops them again, “but I didn’t want to hurt you again. I didn’t want you to be scared of me…” Bucky’s voice trailed off. He takes another deep breath, tapping his hand against the concrete at your thigh.

“I don’t know how to not be the monster they made me.” He whispers quietly, pulling back from you.

You watch him sit back on his heels, your heart aching for him. For the pain you barely knew he must have endured. Traces of flour still stuck to his cheek. You smile softly, reaching up to wipe at it gently. Bucky starts. He quickly recovers, clasping your hand to his face. Turning into your touch, his eyes close.

“It… wasn’t you, Bucky. I mean, yes, I was certainly scared, but not necessarily because of you.” You say quietly, casting your eyes down when he opened his to look at you.

“I’ve seen monsters, Bucky, and you’re not one of them. Monsters don’t turn and run when they have their victim right where they want them. They relish in their fear; they enjoy the pain. You did none of those things.” You offer him another smile as you glance up, running your thumb over his cheekbone. 

“I — I want to tell you what happened to me,” you say, shaking your head as he protests. “I know I don’t have to tell you, but I want to. I need you to understand why I’m so… afraid all the time. I’m tired of running, and… I don’t want you to run from me because you think I’m frightened of you.” You finish.

Bucky squeezes you hand tightly before murmuring his compliance. You let go of the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You look once more around the stairwell.

“First though, we should probably clean this place up… and you owe Tía another bag of flour. Don’t think I’m going to disappoint her by not delivering on what I promised.” You mock scold him.

He grins widely and pulls you up, “No, we can’t have that, can we?”

He pauses, holding tightly to your hand still but not bitingly so. You stare down at him, being a few steps higher than he.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks a little shyly.

The question startles you. Never had anyone asked you before. You feel a shift in your heart as you shuffle closer to him and place a gentle kiss to his lips. Yes, Bucky was most definitely not like the other men you’d encountered before.

•••

After you two worked together to clean the stairwell and yourselves Bucky leads you back out onto the street. He keeps your fingers entwined with his, guiding you back to the store. No words are exchanged between you. Every few steps in the cold night air he brings your hand up to his lips and presses soft kisses to your knuckles.

You marvel at this. He treated you as though you were to most precious thing to come back to him. Not for the first time you compare Colton to Bucky. Sure, Colton would apologize, but he would always turn it around on you; he’d make it seem like it was your fault he’d hurt you. Then he’d continue as though nothing happened. It was enough to make you wonder if it was your fault. 

You’d resolved to tell Bucky part of your story, just as you’d done with CiCi, but when you returned to your apartment nerves began to set in. Bucky took a seat in his usual spot, the recliner next to the piano, and waited.

You stall and fidget, never imagining it would actually be this hard. You steal a look at Bucky, who merely gives you an encouraging smile. You take a steadying breath and perch on the edge of the piano bench closest to him. Bucky carefully takes your hand, smoothing his thumb over your skin. Your eyes fixate on the gesture as you dive into your story.

•••

Your mother’s death had left you feeling lost and displaced in the world. For as long as you could remember it had been just you and her, making your way through life. She’d gone through great lengths and made huge sacrifices to provide you with a good life. 

When you’d gotten into Berklee your mother had sobbed. You’d known then you’d study hard to make her proud. A year into your schooling and she’s been diagnosed with cancer. You wanted to leave school and take care of her, but your mother refused. 

“Don’t you dare throw away your gift. All the hard work we’ve done to get you there.” She’d scolded you when you broached the subject.

“We’ll make it through this as we’ve done with other things our whole lives: together.” 

Another year and she was gone. After her funeral your studies and piano became your life, needing it to keep you grounded to the world. You didn’t have many friends or connections to people so it kept you steady. It helped you feel close to your mother.

You excelled in your classes, receiving high marks and equally high praise. It all landed you a spot in a very prestigious young performers recital. That’s when you’d met Colton.

He’d come up to you after the performance, dressed rather nicely in a tux. His coal black hair gelled back from his face.

“Hello,” He’d said with a charming smile, “I knew if I didn’t come up here to tell you that you play phenomenally I’d regret it the rest of the night.”

You flushed, not used to male attention. “T-thank you.” 

After that you’d turned and walked away, but Colton had been persistent. You slowly relaxed as he joked and complimented the place and you. By the night’s end you’d agreed to a date with him.

That date night was the first of many warning signs that Colton was not as he seemed. Oh he’d been sweet and all smiles, complimenting you on your dress. When the waitress came to take your order, however, his domineering side began to appear.

“What can I get for you tonight ma’am?” She’d asked you politely with a smile.

You opened your mouth to reply but Colton cut you off. “She’ll have the green salad with the cranberry vinaigrette.” He’d responded with a snap of the menu.

The waitress paused, glancing at you uncertainly. You simply smiled and nodded your head, just assuming he was trying to impress you. How wrong you’d been. 

As your dating progressed Colton showed up more and more around your classes, trying to monopolize your free time. The little group of friends you did have you saw less and less, leaving him to be your only companionship. He’d said he just couldn’t stand to be away from you, bringing you flowers and other sweet items.

You’d thought him considerate when it came to sex. He told you he didn’t want to pressure you if you weren’t ready and he’d wait as long as you needed. It’s all seemed perfectly normal to you. That is until he’d asked you to move in with him. Only then did the demons begin to slip past the façade.

It started off with little things. Colton would come home and find a dish you’d just used in the sink and throw a tantrum. He didn’t like the outfit you were wearing so he’d yell and carry on until you caved and changed. He’d ask you about your day, revealing he’d spied on you, trying to catch you in a lie. Then the violence started.

“Where have you been?” Colton demanded the second you walked through the door.

You stare at him wearily as you set down your bag and head to the kitchen. He followed you, hot on your trail.

“God, Colton, I went to a study group. I have a test in two days.” You explained.

“With that guy again?”

You sighed, taking a sip of water from the glass you’d gotten. “Yes, with that guy. He’s assigned to my group. I can’t just —“

Your ears rang as Colton backhanded you across the face. The glass in your hand shattering on the tile floor. You held your smarting cheek, staring back at Colton in bewilderment. The feral look in his eyes sent chills down your spine.

“Don’t you ever talk back to me.” He seethed, his right index finger shoved in your face.

You nod meekly, frightened to say anything. His nostrils flared once and he turned, snagging your bag off the side table as he went and left the apartment. You’d wanted to run that day but you didn’t know where you would go. You had no friends or family to turn to. So you stayed.

Colton then began to pressure you more and more for sex. You gave in, too scared of what he’d do if you continued to say no. It hurt, having him rut into you before you were ready. Even giving him what he wanted he’d slap and choke you, making the ordeal ten times worse. He’d take you to parties, coaxing you to drink. You’d wake up the next morning next to him, knowing he’d used you but glad enough to not remember all the details.

There would be periods of time when he’d act repentant, begging you to forgive him. He would say he loved you so much it just drove him to do these crazy things. And for a time you’d live in peace, before the cycle began again. You lived in a constant state of panic, never certain what would set him off again. Nothing you did pleased him. His violence escalated, leaving you with too many bruises to count and, on more than one occasion, cracked ribs.

Your only solace was your piano. You relished in your practice time at school. It was your escape. Until Colton had taken that away from you too.

•••

Your throat closed off, making it hard to breathe. You push away from the piano, a strangled whimper slipping past your lips as you pace. Panic boils up to the surface and you are gasping. Your lungs suck in the air like you couldn’t get enough. 

Dimly you’re aware of Bucky’s voice, his body close to you but not touching. Gently he grips your face between his hands, coaxing you to turn and look at him. The cool metal of his left hand helping to draw you out of the episode.

“Breathe, Y/N. You’re safe. He’s not here. He can’t hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt you like that again... Including me.” He adds ruefully.

You hold your breath to a count of ten, gazing in his deep blue eyes. When you release the breath you feel a little more stable. You give him a shaky smile.

“I know. That’s why I needed to tell you. To explain why I… get so skittish sometimes…” you finish.

There was certainly more to the story than that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to finish. At least not tonight.

“I’m glad you told me.” Bucky says quietly, his hands releasing their hold on your face. “I’m honored you trust me still to confide in me.” He casts his eyes downward, feeling vulnerable too.

You missed his touch. You wrapped your arms around yourself for comfort.

“You were never unworthy of my trust, Bucky. Even before I knew the details I knew you had baggage too.” You say.

Bucky smirks at that, canting his head in agreement. You stifle a sudden yawn.

“It’s getting late, I should let you rest.” Bucky says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He turns to make his way to the door. Your heart flips. A sudden spike of fear that he’ll disappear again stirs. You stumble forward, reaching out for him.

“Bucky wait —“ he pauses at the door, metal hand resting on the knob. You lick your lips.

“Please, stay with me tonight? I — I don’t want to be alone…” you finish.

Your heart is lodged in you throat as Bucky studies you. 

“You sure that’s what you want, little rabbit? You’re not afraid this ol’ wolf will attack you again?” He jokes.

You crack a smile, happy to see some of his humor return.

“There are no wolves here that will hurt me tonight. I’m sure of it.” You speak softly.

Bucky slowly releases the door knob, making his way carefully to you. You stare up into his face, reading the unspoken emotions there.

“Can I hold you?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

There was the asking permission again. Your heart swelled. Your own feelings making you incapable of answering audibly, you simply nod. 

Cautiously, Bucky tucks his flesh arm under your legs and carries you to the room. You both set about changing, readying yourselves for bed, without saying a word. Bucky switches off the light as you crawl up onto the bed, settling in the middle facing the wall. He carefully wraps himself around you, spooning you close to his chest. 

His fingers find your own on the linens and he soothes the tips over your scarred knuckles. You entwine your hands, pulling his arm up to your chest. Bucky presses tender kisses to the back of your head. You both crave the reassuring touches. You listen as Bucky’s breathing deepens. You feel more centered and happy than you’d been in a long time. And it was all thanks to the kind people you’d found here. All thanks to him.

The broken pieces of yourself were gathering together and shifting back into place. It was still a long road, but it was a path you were willing to take.


End file.
